Never Asked To Feel Your Halo
by BattleKitten
Summary: The thing was, neither of them wanted this-whatever it was, but since when did the Universe care about what Rachel or Quinn wanted? Their cards had been dealt the moment they'd entered that shower together. Now it came down to how well they played them.
1. Prologue

I do not own Glee and I'm not making any money from this. It's just for fun.

A/n: This kicks off directly after Preggers and loosely follows the path of canon from there. Very loosely in some places but there will be spoilers. Also big spoilers for Born This Way in regards to Quinn's back story.

Constructive criticism is always welcome.

* * *

><p><strong>Never Asked To See Your Halo (Pray It Won't Fade Away)<strong>

Prologue

"Hey, what's that you're doing there?"

Lucy jumped as Seb Ober, hands down the most popular boy in the_ whole_ of seventh grade, stopped by her desk to make conversation. This had _never _happened before. God Bless the scientist who invented Proactiv. Sending up another little prayer that the apple she'd had for lunch had left none of its green skin in her braces, she wedged her glasses back onto her nose and looked up from her drawing to reply to his pleasant question.

The friendly smile twisted into a cruel smirk and her sinking heart distracted her long enough for the moment needed to snatch her makeshift sketch pad away. She lunged for it, because that was private and he had no right, already knowing she'd be too slow to grab it back.

"Hey, look!" Seb, tall for his thirteen years, held the book over his head as he hopped out of her reach and addressed the teacher-less class. "Caboosey thinks she's an artist now!"

"What?"

"Let me see?"

"_Who_ drew this? It's actually pretty okay."

"Who's it supposed to be?"

The drawing was passed from hand to hand for everyone to gawp at and Lucy went so red it felt like someone had lit a fire in her mouth. She felt the familiar need to burst into tears sting her eyes and her lips trembled as she weakly begged, "Please give it back."

She was ignored, as usual, and the picture continued its route across the room.

"Wait, that looks like . . ."

"Oh God, is it . . .? Oh, my _God._"

As recognition dawned on many students, the girls mainly, laughter broke out around Lucy and she prayed with every bit of belief in God she had that she would just _die_ on the spot, before . . .

"Hey, Shan, Caboosey drew a _picture _of you!"

. . . that happened.

The drawing quickly made its way into Shannon Sarsons' hands after that and as she stared down at the detailed sketch of herself in absolute horror, Lucy's prayers were answered: she died. But unfortunately death by mortification wasn't anywhere near literal enough.

As she chanced a look up and saw the disgusted confusion on the face of Belleview's head cheerleader, she had a feeling Death by Shannon would be.

"What _is_ this?"

"It doesn't mean anything," she hated that her voice sounded so small, so guilty. "We're doing life drawing in art class and you were in my line of sight. I was just practising, that's all."

"And, what, every time you look at me you see me surrounded by all these little hearts, do you?" Shannon sneered, causing the class to break into laughter all over again. "God, you are _such_ a freak of nature! Why can't you do us all a favour and just _cease to exist_, Lucy Caboosey!"

'_I wish I could,' _she thought miserably as the taunts continued and the threat of tears became a reality, running hot trails of shame down her still burning cheeks.

* * *

><p>". . . also he's the Quarterback, which is apparently a very big deal, although as you know sports aren't really my thing and I can't imagine why throwing air-filled pig skin around a field would appeal to someone clearly as sensitive as Finn is, but I do appreciate that the social standing his position offers him may prove quite beneficial to the Glee Club—"<p>

"Baby girl."

Rachel paused to suck in a breath at the familiar cue from her Daddy. It didn't slow her down for long though.

"—now that he has pledged his allegiance to both his football team and us, despite receiving what I understand was some fairly painful peer pressure administered by his team-mates via several paintball guns, which I think is _so_ brave, don't you think it's brave, Daddy? Dad?"

"I told you we should have gone with a lesbian birth mother just to be on the safe side," Hiram Berry whispered in his husband's ear.

"Oh, hush," Leroy whispered back with a grin. "Our little girl has her first straight crush; I think it's cute."

"I'll remind you of that when she comes home at sixteen to announce she's carrying this Finn character's baby or worse!"

Leroy started to roll his eyes reprovingly at Hiram's far-fetched imagination but then it hit him too. His little girl wanted to date a teenaged boy, and a Quarterback no less. He had been as gay as he was now when he'd been the Quarterback at McKinley all those moons ago and even _he'd_ slept with more than a couple of girls because it was expected of him.

"This is suddenly less funny."

Hiram gave him a smug smile before saying in a rush, "Dibs on _not _taking her to the Family Wellness clinic!"

"_Damn_!" Leroy murmured.

"What are you two whispering about when you're supposed to be listening to me?"

The men guiltily jerked apart and sat up straighter when they saw their daughter had turned from the washing up in the sink, sudsy hands planted firmly on her hips.

"Nothing, Baby Girl."

"We're listening, Sweetpea."

After levelling first one of them and then the other with a suspicious glare, she was happy that she had their full attention again and turned back to her after-dinner chore.

"So, as I was saying, Finn's bravery only proves that he is the perfect leading man for me, and you should hear him _sing_ . . ." They could sense her sudden frown as she hesitated. "Well, anyway, it blends very nicely with my voice and with a little vocal training from _me,_ I'm more than confident that he'll soon be even better than his raw talent allows for right now. And he has such a commanding stage presence! I think it's because he's so tall, did I tell you how tall he is? Really, it's perfect and totally cements our chemistry, it's like he's the yin to my yang and . . ."

"Baby Girl."

Rachel sucked in another giant lungful of breath before picking up where she'd left off. ". . . and if on-stage chemistry isn't a sign from God then . . ."

Behind her, the two men shared an eye roll this time. Their little girl's first crush was going to be hard to take, for so many, many reasons.


	2. 5 years later, the world's at her feet

**Chapter One: **

**Now five years later on she has the world at her feet**

Between classes, the hallways housing the sophomore lockers were the busiest thoroughfares in William McKinley High School. Connecting the main entrance to the Principal's suite in one direction and the stairs to the second floor in the other, with branch lines that led to the cafeteria, the gym and the auditorium, it was always full of activity.

Sometimes it was impossible to squirm or even shove your way through the crowd, it was so thick and slow-moving (pun intended), and trying would more than likely see you shoved back in return, maybe hard enough to land your butt on the floor, providing entertainment for all. And that was just the regular kids. Try shoving past anyone important and you wouldn't just wind up dazed and wondering why you were on the dirty linoleum, you'd also be wondering where your shoes went, and your lunch money, and, if you happened to share a class with the popular kid, possibly any of your homework they hadn't had a chance to do yet too.

Walking these corridors was like a daily running of the gauntlet, as footballs passed overhead; kids were pushed into lockers; gossip and insults filled the air and nobody, _nobody,_ got out of anyone's damn way . . .

It was horrible.

Probably.

She honestly wouldn't know because when she turned the corner, heading to her locker before her last class just like everyone else, the crowd _moved_.

For Quinn Fabray, everybody got out of the damn way.

It wasn't like a choreographed movement where as soon as they saw her the crowd shrank respectfully back against the walls – although that would have been awesome, and a little weird. It was more that everyone knew just when to side-step or drift off of their previous path to avoid being in her way.

It was the best feeling ever, this evidence of her power and the control she had in this school. It was something she had craved for so long and now that she had it, no matter how long it lasted, it was a feeling she would never, ever get tired of.

The trick, though, was to make sure no one else ever realised how much she loved it, because if people knew that, it became a weakness. Something that could be used against her. Something that could be exploited to oust her from the coveted position at the top of McKinley's hierarchy. Something that could take all that she'd worked for away.

And, obviously, something she was never going to let happen.

So she walked the halls behind a mask of cool indifference, keeping any genuine pleasure at the way the lower lifeforms scuttled out of her path deep inside, because if people couldn't see it written on her face, they would _never_ suspect it was there. People around here rarely looked much beyond the surface, especially when the surface was as pretty to look at as hers.

It was getting a little harder recently though. Finding out you're pregnant after a stupid, _stupid_ drunken one-night stand (like it had even lasted a night) was probably enough to rattle even those with the strictest self-control, right? And the morning sickness – a new and entirely unpleasant development – was already proving a bitch to hide . . . but she could handle it. She _had_ to handle it because there was no one else to do it for her. There never was.

Telling Finn had helped though; they'd talked over the weekend and he'd promised to stand by her and support her in whatever decisions she made. She was disappointed that he hadn't immediately done the right thing and proposed; it was still early enough that if they had the wedding right away they could convince everyone it was a honeymoon baby, but there was just enough guilt there to stop her from insisting on it.

Besides, what if he refused? She couldn't afford to scare him off.

At least Puck had backed off after his initial outburst. He'd been giving her a wide berth all day. He must have come to his senses over the weekend, realising that if he just kept his mouth shut that he could get away with his little mistake scot-free and, honestly, she hadn't chosen Finn to let Puck off the hook; she'd lied because Finn was the better man for the job, but she didn't blame Puck for taking the easy out she was giving him.

She just wished there was one for her too.

But there wasn't; she was having a baby and she had to deal with it. The only thing left in her control was minimising the amount of damage it did to her life. Her future was screwed now, no two ways about it, she wasn't getting out. Having a kid at sixteen was just a shortcut to an adulthood of Lima Loserdom.

But there was no way she was letting this baby screw up her present too. Things were good now, really good, and one drunken mistake was not going to take all of that away from her. It was just a case of keeping it on a strictly need to know basis. Finn needed to know, and that was it. Puck and Mrs. Schuster were wild cards but Puck had nothing to gain from telling her secret and Mrs. Schuster had everything to lose. Nobody else ever needed to know. And when she couldn't physically hide it anymore . . . well, she still had a few months to plan excuses for baggy clothes and missed Cheerios practises.

Fooling the school was the easy part, really. Her greatest worry was how to keep her parents in the dark once she started to show . . . figure _that_ out and her house of cards would be watertight.

In the meantime, keeping up appearances was the most important thing she could do and so she walked down the centre of every hallway, pretending not to notice how freaks and geeks side-stepped, shuffled or scooted out of her way, her air of superiority, her mask of indifference never faltering. She had spent years cultivating a façade of unflappable composure to hide her pain, her insecurities, her loneliness, and she had _never_ needed it more. It would take a bomb going off or an Act of God to make her mask slip now—

A cold, wet wave surged into her left ear and across the side of her neck, its force stinging and then numbing her skin.

Or, yep, a _Big Quench_ to the side of the headwould do it too!

When she'd finished gasping at the icy shock that was her first slushie facial, she turned to see who had _dared _to be so stupid.

It was that idiot, the hockey player, what was his name again? Oh right.

"What the hell, Karofsky?" She pushed the jock in the chest, her composure giving way to outrage.

Her anger gave her the strength to push his solid bulk back half a step and he laughed as he apologised.

"Sorry, Fabray, wasn't meant for you. But you _were_ warned. You hang with the losers so much these days it's getting hard to tell you apart."

"What are you even talking about?"

Looking around she saw a freeze-shocked and dripping Rachel Berry standing in front of her locker. She'd obviously been the victim of a multi-cup attack. Two other guys were holding empties and high-fiving and the girl's stiff, white school-marm blouse was stained with cherry, grape and lime – she looked like rainbow barf. Quinn smirked at the overall effect and how the corn-syrup was still dribbling down Berry's face, until ice crystals sliding under the neckline of her uniform reminded her she wasn't just a bystander.

She turned on Karofsky again. "I was not _hanging_ with her, you moron. I was _walking past _her."

Karofsky held his hands up as he stepped back. "Well, maybe you shouldn't have been walking so _close_."

After some more high-fiving, the idiots left, merging with the other students still hurrying to class.

Sighing impatiently, Quinn used a finger to scoop ice from her ear. She hadn't even realised she _was_ walking past the dwarf. The hallway had been busy and she'd been day-dreaming and, really, the only time she ever noticed where Rachel Berry happened to be was when she was all over Finn. Otherwise, who cared?

Speaking of . . . "Hey, what happened? We were talking and then I looked around and you weren't there."

Quinn glared at him for not even realising she'd stopped, until she remembered they had an audience of one. She softened her expression but couldn't quite keep the annoyance out of her tone as she pointed to the side of her head.

"What do you think happened? Karofsky and his goons slushied me."

"That bastard!" It was gratifying to see Finn's face go all red and angry on her behalf. "I'm so gonna kick his . . . Oh shit, _Rachel_!"

His eyes went wide as he noticed the girl still oozing flavoured ice from her hair and clothes.

"I'm fine," Berry assured him, teeth chattering behind her strained smile. "I'm just sorry Quinn happened to be splashed as a consequence of my being too close to her at the time of impact."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Sure you are."

"I am!"

"Hey, she is, Quinn, you can see that."

What she could _see_ was that she'd just been hit in the _ear _by a large cup of ice because of Rachel Berry and _her _boyfriend was paying some overly concerned attention to the _wrong _girl.

"Do you have spare clothes here?" he asked her.

"Of course, I always keep an extra outfit in my locker. I like to be prepared for any eventuality that may crop up during the course of the school day. You never know when . . ."

Quinn pointedly cleared her throat.

Finn turned to her immediately. "Uh, do you have . . .?"

"I have a clean uniform, yes. Shouldn't you be getting to class? We're already late now and if neither of us is there they're going to think we're deliberately cutting."

"Uh, yeah, I guess." Finn looked in the direction of the classroom but then hesitated, looking from Berry to her. "But, uh, do you two need my help first or anything?"

Quinn gave him a withering look. "If by help you mean getting Rupaul out of her clothes, I think you'd find the experience extremely disappointing."

Berry was facing her locker but her shoulders hunched up a little more at the remark.

"Quinn," the boy began and she just knew he was about to tell her off for being too mean.

"Rachel and I will be fine," she said to pre-empt him. "Go to class. We'll see you in Glee."

Berry looked over her shoulder in surprise at her genial tone, just as Quinn was giving him a kiss goodbye. As she pulled back, she caught the girl's eye and held it. Berry went pale under the streaks of red, green and purple decorating her face and Quinn offered her the smallest smirk, letting her hand slide lovingly down Finn's arm as he stepped back with a goofy grin on his face.

He was already running down the hall before he remembered to offer a distracted, "See ya later, Rach," over his shoulder.

Quinn held the eye-contact, allowing her smirk to grow with every second that the girl stood shivering in front of her, unable, it seemed, to look away, until . . .

"I think the cherry will probably stain blonde hair."

"What?"

"The red corn syrup. If you don't wash it out soon it's probably going to be impossible to get out later. You'll have a streak that stays red." Quinn's cocky smirk faded. "Which might be considered fashionable I suppose, but I suspect eventually it will fade to orange."

"Well, chop, chop then, Manhands!" she clapped her hands in front of her and the other girl flinched, banging the back of her head on her locker door. "What are we waiting for?"

The loser quickly pulled a white plastic bag from her locker and closed the door. "Some of us keep a bottle of shampoo and cleansing wipes in the bathroom down the hall."

"And I keep an entire range of toiletries, not to mention my spare uniform, in my gym locker," Quinn countered, leading them in the opposite direction. "Besides," she gave the girl a look up and down, her smirk coming back at just how drenched she was. "I don't think cleansing wipes are going to cut it this time."

"No," Berry looked down at herself, and Quinn was surprised to see a suddenly bright, amused smile. "I think you're probably right."

The locker room was empty. In two hours it would be filled with Cheerios getting ready for practise, but for now they had it to themselves.

Quinn hit the lights as they entered and then went straight to her locker. Berry hovered just inside the door like she'd never been in the room before.

She pointed to the far end. "The showers are that way."

"I know, it's just a little disconcerting being in here right now. You know, when no one else is. No other girls or, uh, teachers."

"I'm in here with you, aren't I?" Then she laughed. "I take it that's the problem." With her towel under her arm and shower supplies in hand, she slammed her locker shut. "I promise not to steal your clothes and throw them in the boy's locker room . . . again."

"Thank you, Quinn."

"Don't mention it, I mean really, because that promise only stands for today."

"I see." She finally came deeper into the room. "Well, I still appreciate your willingness to allow me a reprieve, a stand off if you will, while we . . ." Quinn stopped listening and headed to the back of the room. "You're showering too?"

She wasn't really keen on showering in front of people right now, not that she ever had been, and she usually found a reason to wait until most of the squad had finished up before hitting the showers herself. She wasn't showing yet, the internet said it was too earlier for that, but she did spend most days feeling bloated and disgusting. She might have still been slimmer than the majority of the girls at McKinley, but in front of the other cheerleaders she would stick out like a . . . well, an unplanned pregnancy.

But this was just Berry, who had no body shape to speak of, and the slushie had dribbled its way under the neck of her uniform and into her bra, leaving her feeling chilled and gross and sticky. So she stripped out of her spoiled uniform without much thought.

"Yeah sure, why?"

"Oh, no reason."

Bunching up the red, white and black Cheerios outfit, she threw it towards the lockers. Coach would kill her if she saw it on the floor but it was going to need dry-cleaning anyway. Hanging her fluffy white towel on the provided hooks, she stepped into the slightly sunken shower area and then hit the first button she came to to start the spray running.

She was stepping under it, tilting her head back to rinse off her face, when she noticed Berry still standing by the partition and staring at the back wall.

"Are you showering in your clothes or what?"

The girl physically jumped at her snapped enquiry. "No, I just . . . uh, I thought, that is . . ."

"Wow, Berry, never heard you so inarticulate. Is water that scary? Do you not wash at home?"

"Of course I do. My personal hygiene routine is extremely thorough."

As Quinn looked over to mock that, she saw the girl was finally shedding her slushie-soiled clothes. She still had her back to her as she took off her blouse and then awkwardly removed her knee-high socks, wobbling as she balanced on first one foot and then the other.

Quinn rolled her eyes and then forgot about her, concentrating on washing her hair, determined to remove any sign of cherry slush. She was on her second shampoo, head tilted back again and eyes closed against the suds, when she felt the warm, clearly naked body bump into her.

"Hey! What the hell?" Her eyes shot open but were immediately blinded by the soap. Reaching out sightlessly, Quinn grabbed an arm and shoved her away. "This one's taken, pervert! Get your own shower."

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," echoed off the walls, Berry's voice high in embarrassment and panic. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Why not?"

"I had my back to you."

"_Why?"_

"It seemed like the polite thing to do."

Quinn shook her head, but washed the shampoo out of her hair before saying, "You act like you've never showered after gym before."

"I have, it's just . . ."

"It's just . . ." she repeated sarcastically.

"Nothing. Never mind. I'm just very sorry for bumping into you."

"You better be."

Rubbing conditioner from the roots to the tips of her hair and leaving it in for now, she reached out for her shower gel, and noted with a frown that Berry just seemed to be doing the best she could with plain water and a lot of scrubbing her hands over her skin.

"Where's your soap?"

"I don't have a designated gym locker to keep that kind of thing in."

That would be true, only Cheerios were allowed permanent lockers, Coach Sylvester insisted on it.

She sighed and shook her head; the things she did for the sake of charity. After squeezing a generous helping of the shower gel into her palm she called out,

"Here."

And sent the bottle down the row of showers in a smooth underarm throw. She'd given her ample time to react and catch the offering but Berry still fumbled it. Throwing her arms out instinctively wasn't enough when her gaze seemed to be glued to the white tiled wall and refused to come unstuck. The slippery bottle slid over the palm of one grasping hand and evaded the other completely before hitting the girl in the ribs and dropping to the non-slip floor.

God, she was _such_ a freak!

"I thought you were some kind of dancer? You have as much grace as a pygmy hippo in floaties and flippers!" She watched as Berry squatted and scrambled around with her eyes strictly on the floor now, dark hair matted to her face by the force of the spray as she hurried to pick the shower gel back up, muttering apologies for her carelessness. Quinn almost smiled at how much of a dork she was. "You'd better not have broken that."

"No, no, it's fine." Standing back up she faced away from Quinn completely now as she uncapped the bottle. "Thank you for letting me borrow some. It's very kind of you."

"Yes, it is." She sighed again as she extended another offer. "If you want to borrow the shampoo and conditioner though you can come and get them. They're too expensive to have you just throw on the floor."

"You threw it on the floor," her defiance was only just audible over the dual shower heads running. "Actually you threw it _at me _and then it fell to the floor."

"I threw it _to you_ and gently for that matter. You're the freak who wouldn't look in this direction enough to make a catch a five year old could have handled." Smirking, she added, "Is there some reason why you can't look at me right now, Berry? Something that I should be worried about?"

She said it without really thinking, because putting Rachel Berry in uncomfortable situations had always just come naturally to her. This wasn't even one of her best; it was nonsensical in fact because everyone knew Berry was into Finn in a big way. The irritating dwarf didn't even have the decency to try and hide it. So it was the absence of the other girl laughing it off, or saying anything at all actually, that had Quinn quirking a suspicious eyebrow her way.

"You know what they say, don't you Treasure Trail? Only those who _want_ to look are scared to look."

"I suppose that would make sense. Those who didn't want to look wouldn't even realise they were looking."

With the simple acknowledgement, Quinn lost the wind from her sails. It wasn't like she'd planned to thump the lesson into the girl like she'd had it thumped into her after her first gymnastics competition – the first one where she couldn't wait and shower at home anyway – but to have the lesson taken from her completely left her unsure what to follow with.

"Um, yeah, exactly."

"I'm not _scared _to see you unclothed, Quinn, I've just been led to believe showers should be private."

"Oh." This was ridiculous. Rachel Berry had her on the back foot and how was that acceptable? "Why, what do you have to hide?"

"Nothing."

It came a little too quick, a little too strained, probably for no reason other than the girl was feeling self-conscious about being alone with her, but Quinn chuckled under her breath at spotting a weakness she could seize on.

"You don't sound very sure." There was no reply other than Berry's posture stiffening a little more as she resolutely kept her face turned away and that was just making this too easy, but easy could be fun. "Come on, what is it you don't want me to see, Rupaul? Do you have like a third nipple or something?"

She let the awkward silence last a full minute before she amped up the tension with,

"Oh my God, don't tell me that's it. Was I right all along?"

"What? I don't . . . Right about what?"

"You really are a tranny, aren't you!"

Berry didn't so much make words as splutter out random syllables of indignation, taking her question as genuine because she still wouldn't turn to see the wicked grin Quinn was wearing.

"This is huge. I mean, I always suspected," she lied, "but confirmation like this is such a bonus."

"You haven't confirmed anything!"

"But I'm about to." She crept up on the other girl, the noise of her bare feet lost beneath the streaming water. "Come on, let me see it."

Rachel jumped to hear her voice right behind her and took a step away. "Quinn, please stop. You know I don't really have a penis."

"No I don't and you're not really convincing me otherwise."

"This is ridiculous!" Head high, Berry started to walk away from her but Quinn kept pace until the end wall left them nowhere else to go.

"Aww, you're shy," she laughed, teasing, "Look, if you're freakishly tiny I promise not to tell everyone."

"I am not . . ." Berry started and then stopped, shaking her head furiously. "What am I saying? I have nothing to _be_ tiny!"

"Sure you don . . ."

"Fine!" She turned so fast Quinn wasn't ready for it. "There, see. Look!"

The demand was so unexpectedly forceful it was a few seconds before she realised she'd followed it and was now looking at . . . well, it wasn't a penis. She jerked her eyes up to a point over Berry's shoulder, pulse quickening, cheeks burning with shame.

'_Damn.'_

"Hmm, scared to look, Quinn?"

'_Damn!'_


	3. It was great for about an hour,

Should have mentioned this in the original author notes but:

**Pairings:** Quinn/Rachel overall, but all canon pairings will be included to a greater or lesser degree and there'll be one of my own devising too to keep things interesting.

Chapter title inspired by _She Hates Me _by Puddle of Mudd.

Thank you for all the reviews for the first chapter. They made my day.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two:<strong>

**It was great for about an hour, after that shit got sour.**

It was the baby's fault, stealing nutrients and vitamins from her and making her weak, that was why her knees felt wobbly all of a sudden and she had to lean a hand on the slick tiles beside Rachel Berry's shoulder to keep her balance. The chill under her palm brought her back a little focus, that was good. She needed focus because she should be saying something right now, some sharp retort that would strip Berry's voice of that maddening self-satisfied tone.

"Scared of permanently damaging my eyesight. Those outfits you inflict on us are detrimental enough without ever having to see what's beneath them."

"You're the one who wanted to look!"

"I was teasing you, you freak! I didn't mean for you to actually flash me; who does that?"

"My eyes are down here, Quinn."

She laughed out of nowhere because, oh God, if she didn't she'd cry or something instead. "Yeah, your eyes and everything else. _My_ eyes like it up here just fine, thanks."

But why was she still staring at the white tile an inch above Berry's head? Why was she still standing here at all? With a shake of her head she was about to push off of the wall and go back to her shower.

"It's okay to be curious, Quinn."

Okay, so moving was out for another minute. "Curious about . . . what, exactly?"

Had she _really _just asked that?

"Of other girls. It's perfectly natural, with our burgeoning sexualities and changing bodies, to be curious and to want to engage in comparing and contrasting our own development against theirs. Personally I find myself fascinated with boobs right now; I think it's because I never had a chance to bond with a pair in my formative years that has me so intrigued now. What do you think?"

"How should . . .?" Quinn glanced down as she was answering, and then she looked back up again really fast!

Oh God, Rachel Berry was staring at her breasts. She wasn't making a move to touch them and she wasn't leering at them or anything either, but she was showing unmistakable interest in _her breasts_! She'd pinch herself and wake up from this nightmare if she could actually _move_ right now. Only her heart still had that capability apparently, and it was making up for the rest of her by beating twice as fast as usual.

"Well?" Berry was impatient for an answer.

"I, uh . . ." Get it together! "I honestly can't tell if this is you coming on to me right now or if you actually think this is normal social behaviour."

"Neither actually. Even if I had any such interest in you I would never be foolish enough to think _this _was the opportune time to inform you of it. And of course this isn't normal social behaviour, we're teenaged girls and you mentioned yourself the rules that govern the occasions that require our nudity. 'Don't ask, don't tell!'"

Quinn frowned. "I thought that was for the military."

"It is, but I think it works much better in our situation, don't you?"

"I really don't have any idea what you're talking about."

And she was starting to get cold; the showers had stopped running and the steamy humidity was dissipating and this conversation was getting too confusing to keep up the effect it had originally, whatever that had been. Best not to think about it and just move on with her day.

"You didn't ask and I won't tell."

"Tell _what_?"

"That we . . . looked."

Apparently she still needed the wall for balance but she braced on her fingers to put some distance between them and pointed accusingly with her other hand. "I didn't mean to look, that was your fault."

"I wasn't talking about before, I'm talking about now."

"I'm not looking now."

"I know, but you can if you want to. What I'm saying is, I don't mind, if you want to look at my body to satisfy any curiosity you might have."

Well, she wasn't feeling so chilly anymore. The cold shower block had turned into a sauna on her.

"What? I don't . . .?"

Berry gave her a patient smile. "I can only imagine it will do _your_ self-esteem more good than mine . . ."

Yeah, really not so much.

". . . but I'm confident enough in my figure to not be threatened by your undeniably although rather obvious stunning cheerleader physique . . ."

She should be insulted by that but she was too busy sucking in her stomach in case Berry was already looking – she had no idea if she was or not because with every word out of her mouth Quinn's gaze was going higher and higher up the tiles instead of down to where she . . . where Berry seemed to want her to go.

"Of course I'm not quite as, um, groomed as I would have liked to have been for my first nude scene, but it's not like I expected it to be today . . ."

This was not happening.

". . . in the future, I may have to include a Gillette Venus lady razor in with my emergency slushie kit, I really should have thought about it before but as I said you've caught me on the hop here so if you want to look down there you'll have to take me as I am . . ."

Why was this happening? Shoot her now! Better yet, shoot _Berry_ right now!

". . . I expect you're a little different, though. I mean, you always look so meticulously flawless that I can only imagine you are as fussy about your appearance down there as everywhere else . . ."

"I'm not fussy!"

". . . which seems like a lot of hours wasted really when you think of how your position on the Celibacy Club severely limits the amount of people who are going to see and appreciate it . . ."

"Does it look like I waste hours on bikini waxing?" Berry's head tilted forward and Quinn slapped a hand over her eyes. "That was rhetorical! Don't actually _look_!"

Even having her eyes covered didn't shut her up. ". . . My Dads have of course spoken to me at length about personal grooming . . ."

"Your _Dads _have spoken to you about it?"

"Yes. At least, I think that's what they were speaking about. With all the talk of private landscaping and lady gardens they may have been talking about actual yard maintenance and personally I think we're a little young to worry about advanced topiary . . ."

"Stop!" Quinn begged.

". . . although I'll admit to having wondered how it would look to have a star shaped out of my . . ."

"Okay, okay, you win! Promise never to talk to me about lady gardens or star shaped topiary again and we'll . . . you can . . . uh, satisfy your curiosity."

Berry beamed while Quinn's stomach flipped a few times and she wondered how safe it was to run away on the wet floor. She only noticed the big smile had fallen into a pout when the other girl put her hands on her hips.

"This isn't going to work if you don't stop blocking my vision, Quinn."

Quinn dropped her hand to her side, curling it against her thigh. It was hard to resist covering her stomach, even more so than anywhere else, but she did by clenching her fists and shifting her gaze to a different tile above Berry's head.

"You have to look too."

"I'm not that curious."

"Yes you are."

She just shook her head.

"It's really okay. It doesn't mean anything and I seriously doubt looking at _me_ is going to make you gay. Looking at a girl like Santana might, possibly, but not looking at me."

She smiled at Berry's self-depreciating chuckle and then . . . what the hell, right? She was curious, she'd always been curious and it _was _only Berry. Her eyes dipped to the other girl's chin before she lost her nerve and looked up again.

She swallowed hard and made it as far as a clavicle before she had to swallow again. She felt stupid for being so nervous but years of training herself not to do this were hard to forget.

"This stays between us?" She hadn't meant to phrase that like a question.

"Absolutely. I can't imagine any of our peers understanding the innocence of what we are doing. They would undoubtedly assume it was borne of some sexual inclination on our parts when in reality this exercise is purely an extension of natural childhood learning, processed through exploration and observation . . ."

Quinn tuned her out until it was just a soft babble of noise as her eyes gradually drifted lower and lower. She wasn't sure how much _observing _she was really doing considering it felt like her brain had thrown its hands up inside her eyes so nothing could scare it too much, but a vague thought that went something like _'Boobs!'_ filtered through at some point.

Now she was staring, unseeing, at Berry's belly button and having a quick chat with the man upstairs while Berry continued to go on and on about the importance of having a fully developed something of something.

'_This isn't a sin, right? I mean, it's just looking and it's not like its going to lead to me suddenly coveting Berry's . . . anything. This is actually sensible, if you think about it, it'll, like, lessen the temptation for the forbidden fruit . . . or something. I mean, everyone knows when you're not allowed something it just makes you want it even more – slight design flaw there, by the way, if you don't mind me saying – and if I just get it out of my system I'll be able to be that much more devout in the future. Case and point, I am _never_ having sex before marriage again!'_

_. . . _

'_Honestly, just trust me. I'm going to look and realize I've been building this up into something out of nothing all this time and then we're both going to be happier with the way I live my life. Okay, here goes nothing.'_

Berry was _still_ talking. "But our fellow students are hardly enlightened enough to understand that this has nothing whatsoever to do with sex."

"Yeah," she murmured and, like pulling off a band aid, dropped her eyes another six inches and _satisfied her curiosity._

In a dusty recess at the back of her mind, Quinn heard a balloon pop.

'_Damn!'_

* * *

><p>"Oh, you're not a natural blonde."<p>

For some reason that disappointed Rachel. Not that it mattered to her either way really but she had always aspired to Quinn's natural beauty and to find out it wasn't all natural, well she felt cheated in a way.

She didn't have any longer to dwell on it because Quinn abruptly pushed away from the wall and walked away.

"I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended. Show and tell is over. Bring that stuff out when you're done." She waved at the bottles of shampoo and conditioner as she left the shower room.

"Okay."

Rachel stayed against the wall for another moment or two before shaking herself and going back to finish her shower. She was quite pleased that she'd had the courage to initiate what they'd just done. It had always been a bit of a mystery why people were so scared of showing their bodies, especially as her Dads had always instilled in her a sense of pride in her own. Oh it wasn't like they were nudists or anything, heaven forbid, because there was certainly a time and place for _letting it all hang out. _But to be ashamed of the body God had given you, especially if you looked after it like she did, and obviously Quinn did too, it just made no sense. And she'd always found the female form to be more sensual than a male's, if not nearly as arousing, although Quinn did give that theory a run for its money . . .

She blinked herself out of that train of thought and focused on washing and how it was nice of Quinn to share her toiletries with her and how inappropriate thoughts were not the correct way to repay her kindness.

By the time she was entering the locker room, dripping all over the floor and shivering a little in the cooler air, Quinn was already in her underwear and was towel drying her hair.

She looked up for a half a second and then jerked her eyes away. "Let me guess, you don't have a towel in here either?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

Sighing in exasperation, Quinn took her keys from her bag and walked over to the supply closet. "If Coach Sylvester asks, you never saw me do this. They're only supposed to be for the squad."

Rachel took the towel that was offered to her – white with the Cheerios logo blazoned across the middle – and smiled at how soft and fluffy it was, and big! She could completely cocoon herself in it and did so to ease her shivers.

"You'll have to take that home and wash it tonight," Quinn said as she relocked the door and went back to her hair.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Scared I'm going to give the Cheerios cooties?"

Quinn actually grinned before forcing it into a smirk. "No, I'm scared I'll get in trouble for letting you use it. And if I get in trouble . . ."

She left the threat hanging and Rachel nodded in understanding. "I'll return it to you tomorrow."

"Good."

Still wrapped in the towel, she arranged her spare clothes on the bench beside Quinn.

"We've missed nearly all of last period," she said, just to make conversation because things felt awkward now that they were no longer in the small shower area.

"Good; I had Math."

"I thought Math was one of your stronger subjects."

"I'm strong in every subject, doesn't mean I _want_ to sit through a forty minute class on any of them."

"That's not very modest of you, Quinn."

Quinn was fussing about in her locker now, but she poked her head around the door, an eyebrow raised, "You're talking to me about modesty?"

"At least my pride in Glee club is justified whereas I happen to know that you're grades in History are less than sub-par, making your statement about being good at every subject something of a lie."

"Oh my God," Quinn held a hand to her mouth. "I swear I saw you get clothes out of your locker so why are you getting dressed in the lost and found box?"

She wanted to scowl but Quinn's terrible hammy acting brought a wry smile, "Very amusing. I hope you found the retribution you needed in that comment."

"It helped." The smirk drifted away as she cleared her throat. "Uh, what happened in there never happened, okay?"

"Well, nothing actually did happen, so of course."

Quinn nodded and Rachel thought that was the end of their conversation and began to dress. Apparently not though.

Quinn closed her locker with a slight slam and asked, "So, you and my boyfriend, should I be worried?"

Rachel hesitated, "Why do you ask?"

"Don't play dumb. It's clear to anyone you're into him."

"I, uh, I . . ." She was blushing, which probably made lying pointless. "Finn and I are friends but he is, obviously and visibly, in love with you."

"Thanks for the affirmation but I knew that," Quinn sneered, "I'm asking if _you_ want _him_?"

She stared at her, not knowing how to answer. Saying 'Yes actually, I've already made a few attempts to steal him away' just didn't feel right after the thing that hadn't happened in the showers. It's not like she thought they'd suddenly become friends now that they'd spent several minutes looking at each others privates but surely it had to have forged some sort of bond between them.

"I'm waiting, Stubbles!"

"I . . . I think that as the strongest female lead in Glee that it would be somewhat symmetrical if Finn, as the strongest male lead, and I were to end up together. It's true, there is a certain amount of destiny to it, but I am not under any illusion that things will work out that way."

"Why not?"

Rachel hesitated again and then drew herself up to her full five-foot-two and a half. "Because Finn doesn't feel that way about me and even if he did I would never deliberately be his partner-in-cheating on you . . . now that I know you."

"What do you mean, now that you know me? You've known me for years."

"But I've only truly known you since today. This is the first time we've talked for longer than a few minutes and when your side of the conversation hasn't been mostly made up of insults."

"Not the point I was making!"

Rachel gulped, she had no choice but to just tell the truth and take whatever punishment Quinn saw fit.

"We've kissed," she admitted. "It was just after Finn joined the club but before you did. It was stupid, and all my fault. Please don't be mad at him."

"What makes you think it would be him I'm mad at?" Fully dressed now, Quinn approached and Rachel wanted to stand her ground but the crisp Cheerios uniform was just as intimidating as Quinn herself, and combined they forced her back until she was pressed against the lockers. "Why did you do it? Are you so desperate for popularity that you don't even care whose boyfriend you're stealing?"

"No! Like I said, it was stupid. I thought it was meant to be and . . . and Finn was being really nice to me and . . . I don't know, it was a mistake. I'm so sorry."

"Did you like it?"

"I, well, uh . . . I'm sorry, what?"

Quinn leaned in closer. "Did you like it? Did you enjoy him kissing you? Was it good?" she mocked.

"I don't know. I mean it was nice, but it was my first time, so I don't really have any kind of scale to evaluate that particular kiss on."

"Okay, let me put it simply. Did it turn you on?"

Her eyes went wide. "I don't know."

It hadn't and it had. When he'd kissed her she'd felt all fluttery and excited, but more mentally than physically.

"Does Finn, in general, turn you on?"

She squirmed against the locker a little. "I don't know. Why is it important?"

"Why? He's my _boyfriend_. If I have competition I like to know who I have to crush." Quinn gave her a disdainful look up and down and Rachel wished she wasn't still in her underwear. "Not that you'll be _much_ competition."

"I know Finn likes me," she blurted and then cursed herself because that was so not a helpful thing to say when Quinn Fabray had her trapped against the lockers.

Quinn just laughed at her, although it was high-pitched enough to be fake. "He won't when I tell him you have a crush on _me_."

"What? I don't . . ."

"What happened in there—" she pointed towards the showers. "—was all your idea."

Rachel felt her heart sink. "I thought that was staying between us."

"Oh, _that _is. If you ever breathe a word of it, I'll destroy you, but you clearly have a thing for me or you wouldn't have wanted to do it and all's fair in love and war, Rachel."

"That's not . . ." Rachel felt a little sick as she tried to explain. "I don't have feelings for you, Quinn. I swear I don't. Like I said, my curiosity was purely innocent and not indicative of anything sexual on my part."

Quinn gave her a cruel smirk. "Maybe, maybe not. Stay away from my boyfriend and maybe no one but you and I will ever have to question that."

"Maybe?" she asked, worried.

"Come on, did you really think _I _was the best person to try your little experiment on? We're not friends. I don't even like you." She finally took a step back and nodded at the wet towel discarded on the bench. "Make sure you wash that tonight, because if Coach Sylvester hands me my ass over letting you use it, I'm paying it forward."

There was no strength in her legs to move from the lockers yet, so she simply watched as Quinn gave her a sarcastic wave of her fingers, picked up her bag and left the room. Only then did she move to slump down on the closest bench and put her head in her hands.

This was bad on so many levels but the very worst one . . . Quinn Fabray was really hot when she was feeling vengeful. How had she never noticed that before?

She scrunched her eyes shut and clenched her fists against her forehead because . . . she had just completely _effed _everything up!

* * *

><p>Rachel walked into the choir room with her head held high . . . right up until she saw Quinn sitting between Santana and Brittany on the risers. It wasn't a surprise that the cheerleader had arrived before her – considering she'd spent twenty minutes hyperventilating in the girls' bathroom before regaining her wits – but she hadn't expected to lock eyes with her the second she walked in.<p>

She stopped in the middle of the floor, staring, her bladder suddenly getting tight to the point that she had to worry about not having _another _change of clothes in her locker, but then Quinn looked away to say something to Santana and Rachel found herself able to move again. She rushed to a seat at the other end but couldn't stop herself from glancing over at least three times a minute.

What was Quinn saying? Was she telling them about how she had kissed Finn? That would be bad but she could live with it. She hated the fact that she had done that, or not hated it so much, just felt really guilty about it. She'd known he was with Quinn and she hadn't cared; in some ways it had felt like vengeance for the years Quinn had spent picking on her. That had just made her feel even more terrible though when Finn had told her it could never happen again, complete with sorrowful puppy-dog eyes.

It would have been easier to take _without_ the puppy-dog eyes.

If Quinn was telling her friends something as bad as that though it would be a miracle, there was a much higher chance that she was telling them something even worse.

Why couldn't she just have showered like a normal person instead of getting all awkward and embarrassed in front of Quinn? Why had she gotten all awkward and embarrassed in front of Quinn in the first place? Why couldn't she have stayed awkward and embarrassed instead of getting a surge of confidence and suggesting what she had suggested?

As she looked down the line of chairs again she accidentally caught Santana's eye. "What are you so curious about, Treasure Trail?"

"I, uh . . ." Words failed her as Quinn burst out laughing and Santana gave her a self-satisfied smile.

She ducked her head and was eternally thankful that Mr. Schuester walked in just a few seconds later. But obviously Quinn had already told her friends about what had happened in the locker room and the rest of her high school experience was going to be an even greater hell than she was used to.

She sighed, already steeling herself for it. So she was more of a laughing stock than usual, fine. If Quinn Fabray hadn't broken her in three years then why would she now? Let her do and say as she liked. Rachel was prepared for it now, affording her the chance to plan her countermoves for the rumours that were no doubt about to fly through the school – not that anyone ever listened to her side of the story.

She shot Quinn one last determined glance. One the blonde happened to catch because clearly nothing was going her way today. Quinn's smug smile wavered slightly though and for just a second or two she saw the girl she'd been with in the showers; the shy, embarrassed, nervous girl who couldn't be further removed from the Quinn Fabray she thought she knew, the girl who had most _definitely_ been just as eager to look back despite her initial protests . . .

Rachel jerked her eyes away quickly before the look in Quinn's eyes, then and now, burrowed into her brain and she had no choice but to think about it too much.

Judging from the fact that she had just spaced out for the first twenty minutes of Glee . . . it might already be too late.


	4. The Birth of Bewilderment

Thanks for the reviews :) Really glad you guys are liking this.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three: <strong>

**The Birth of Bewilderment**

The following day, after a night with barely any sleep – making her morning exercise routine seem particularly gruelling – Rachel walked into American Literature a few minutes late.

She was halfway through her apology when the teacher stopped listening – if he ever had been – and shouted, "Okay, Hudson, front of the class!"

"What?" Finn innocently looked up from his seat at the back beside Quinn, the hollow pen in his hand forgotten in his surprise at getting caught. A band geek a couple of rows in front was scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "What did I do?"

"I let the first two spit balls go, third strike and you're out. Come on." The bearded and bespectacled teacher waved the boy to the only seat left at the front of the class and Finn reluctantly stood up to lumber forward.

"But, Mr. Laxforth, that's my seat," Rachel protested.

The teacher showed no remorse. "Then you should have been on time."

There was only one empty seat left in the class, the one Finn had just vacated, and with heavy feet she walked towards it. Quinn was smirking at her, until she was a desk away and then the blonde averted her eyes to the board at the front of the room.

Sitting down, she set her books neatly on the desk, doing her best to ignore the girl to her left. Class began and she was confident she could get through the entire lesson without ever looking over, not that that stopped her body from being on red alert the whole time.

She couldn't remember ever sitting beside Quinn in class before, not since they'd started high school and left alphabetically assigned seating behind. It wasn't all bad. She was sitting at the back of the class with a popular cheerleader; this was the stuff reputations were made out of. But it was distracting too, and there was never a good reason for being distracted during a time when she was trying to learn something. And so far she hadn't heard a thing Mr. Laxforth had said because all she could concentrate on was not paying any attention to the girl beside her!

It turned out that her body's warning system was lacking however, because when Quinn suddenly whispered to her she jumped, her leg knocking against the desk and her pen slipping from her hand to skitter off of the edge.

"Not like you to be late."

She bent down to pick up her pen and then looked studiously ahead again. "I didn't sleep well."

"What kept you awake?"

Rachel didn't answer.

"Do you really think ignoring me is in your best interests?"

Probably not. "I had things on my mind."

"Like?"

Now _that,_ Rachel definitely wasn't going to answer.

"Your silence speaks volumes, you know."

She felt a flash of irritation. She hadn't done anything wrong! "_Like_?"

Unseen, a firm leg pressed to her own. As she registered the sensation of skin on skin Rachel had to suppress a squeak as she jumped again, this time banging both knees painfully on the underside of the desk.

Quinn chuckled. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before getting cocky."

Rachel was thankfully ignored for the rest of the lesson but she noticed Quinn's smirk as, when the bell rang, she had to _limp_ out of the classroom.

* * *

><p>Quinn couldn't believe her bad luck when Berry was told to sit next to her.<p>

She'd spent the previous night alternating between trying to pretend nothing had happened in the showers and coming up with ways to make it all Rachel's fault, using it for her own benefit and praying for forgiveness for her weakness over what had turned out to be a poor lapse in judgment (i.e. _Looking!_).

Teasing Rachel now gave her some power over the situation but it was superficial because even if the other girl did have a crush on her, it didn't erase the fact that _she _had let it go so far yesterday. She should have walked away the second Berry had turned around but instead she had indulged the other girl's lunacy, and, okay, indulged her own temptation too and now . . .

. . . And now she was screwed because there was no physical way of taking a scouring brush to the inside of her brain to scrub away those visuals, and short of drinking a bottle of bleach and saying: Goodbye Cruel World, she didn't know what to do to make the memory go away.

But one thing she did know: if she had to live with it, Berry was going to live with it worse!

* * *

><p>They weren't even halfway through Fall semester but already the weather was beginning to turn. The morning had started out bright enough but by the time Quinn emerged from her last class the sky had turned gray and a blustery wind played and tugged with the skirt of her Cheerios uniform. There was the promise of rain in the air but Coach Sylvester didn't believe in promises and unless there was a torrential downpour in the next five minutes they would still be practicing on the sports field instead of in the warmth of the gym.<p>

It was twenty minutes later when the rain came but it was light – not enough for Coach to worry about being electrocuted by her battery-powered bullhorn – so there was no reprieve.

They were going through the jump offs from the second tier of the pyramid and as feet constantly slipped off of wet shoulders, Quinn was glad she wasn't needed for this particular exercise. Hopefully the stream of weather-induced screw ups would continue long enough that they wouldn't have time to run through the top tier jump offs today. She didn't want to risk a fall from the top but she couldn't exactly tell Coach why.

She stood off to the side with Santana and Brittany, laughing at the struggling girls and grading their falls on hilarity, poise-under-pressure and most likely to cause severe maiming.

"Oh God, what's _it_ doing here? Please tell me she's not trying to get on the squad. I can't take her here too."

Puzzled, Quinn followed Santana's line of sight to the bleachers. Rachel Berry was sitting on the third row, a notebook open on her lap and an umbrella held low over her bent head. The strong wind kept catching it and Quinn chuckled as she watched her continuously stop writing to grab the handle and hold it steady.

She turned back to the show in front of her. "There aren't any positions open on the squad."

"Then what _is_ she doing here?"

"I bet she's here to watch Finn practice football," Brittany turned to the boys running around at the other end of the field. They didn't care about the rain, in fact the wetter and muddier it became the more they seemed to enjoy themselves. They were definitely getting louder; their grunts and the smack of pad on pad rivaling the Coach's yelling. "Oh, sorry, Q."

She turned from watching them herself. "Why?"

"Well, Finn's your boyfriend. You probably want to be the only one watching him."

"Want me to cut a bitch?" Santana asked with a way too enthusiastic grin.

Quinn laughed at her, "Okay, quick round of Success, Marriage or Juvie." She pointed to Santana on the last word.

"Yeah, well, I ain't built to marry and we both know Britt's gonna be the one who succeeds."

As Brittany smiled angelically at the compliment, Quinn huffed under her breath. Everyone assumed the pinnacle her life was going to be getting married, even her friends. It was like her future was being put together on an assembly line: Head Cheerleader; Honor Student; Ivy League College; Meet Upstanding Christian Guy; Have Perfect Wedding; Move to the Suburbs; Raise Two-point-four Kids; Die.

Her Dad was so proud of all of her achievements so far but he would have an aneurysm if she said she wanted to have a career of her own after leaving college. A daughter of the great Russell Fabray having a _job, _it was -consciously rubbing her stomach she remembered that the aneurysm was actually already scheduled for whenever she stopped being able to hide her latest _achievement_ because she'd already done the _unthinkable_.

The reminder of that curbed her inner-rebellion but she knew it would resurface again because, sure, marriage and kids would be her goal one day but she wanted more than that too. Otherwise she'd have already found a way to have Finn put a ring on her finger. She wanted to live before she settled down, to do at least one exciting, wild, unexpected thing. Something she could look back on with a smile when she finally let that assembly line carry her off into suburban, domestic oblivion.

And for the record, having Puck's baby at sixteen was _not_ going to bethat thing.

"So, back to Manhands," Santana was saying and Quinn was aware she'd missed a whole conversation while she'd been thinking. "We should run her out. Remind her this is Cheerios' turf."

She thought about it, it could be amusing. Coach's bullhorn was unattended right now and Berry's head was scrunched over her notebook. They could use it to scare the crap out of her. But . . . she had better things to do right now than waste her time pranking Berry.

"No, if she wants to sit out in the rain like an idiot, let her."

"Seriously?" Brittany asked, "You don't mind that she's watching Finn?"

Quinn smirked. She wasn't there to watch _Finn_, if she was she'd be watching him instead of huddling in a ball over her notebook. Besides, even Berry wouldn't be that stupid, right? She'd made it perfectly clear yesterday that any more advances on her boyfriend and she was going public with Rachel's little lesbian crush on her. Surely she had more sense than to disobey her the very next day and force Quinn's hand like that?

God, please let her have more sense than that! Because she really didn't want to have to follow through on her threat. The idea made her feel . . . not guilty as such but . . . uncomfortable. The whole situation made her feel uncomfortable. Just thinking the words _'Rachel's little lesbian crush on me'_ caused the most intense sense of discomfort deep inside that had her knocking her knees lightly together as she shifted from foot to foot, hands twitchily fisting the perfect red pleats of her skirt until a curious glance from Santana made her drop the material self-consciously and tightly cross her arms over her chest. And, really, considering the adverse reaction those six little words caused it would be ludicrous to ever think about any of it again. She needed to just let it go and concentrate instead on things that actually mattered.

'_Rachel's little lesbian crush on me.'_

No! Stop that!

"You okay, Q?" Only Santana would consider that smirk a show of concern. "You look like you tripped and sat on your electric toothbrush."

"What? I don't even _have_ an electric toothbrush."

"You should totally get one. Mine even has rabbit ears; it's so cute."

"Uh, Britt, that's not your toothbrush."

"Well, I know that, it's an electric tooth_polisher_, that's why it's shaped like that and doesn't have bristles . . ."

Quinn didn't have the first clue of what they were talking about, lost at the first mention of toothbrushes, so she didn't take much notice as Santana dragged Brittany away to whisper frantically in her ear. Casting an eye back up at the bleachers she saw that Berry's umbrella had finally succeeded in its quest for freedom and the girl was now climbing over row after row of tiered benches to reclaim it before it could go airborne on the next strong gust of wind.

She was such a loser! Why couldn't she just walk around and up the steps to get it like a normal person? Better question, why was she sitting out in the wind and the rain at all when she had no reason to be? Why was she up there, tormenting her like this? For Finn? Or for . . . _her_? Was it possible that she had stumbled on the truth yesterday (if by stumbled you meant stared it right in its naked face!) and Berry really did have an _actual_ crush on her? If she was prepared to be more honest with herself it made more sense than simple curiosity did, but she wasn't prepared to be, because it implied she was tarred by the same brush and . . . just, _no,_ okay!

If Rachel Berry had a thing for her, fine. It was actually kind of hilarious when she thought about it, but that didn't mean she _needed_ to think about it or worry about it and she certainly didn't have to return it. The best thing she could do was ignore it, just like she always had with Puck's little obsession with her.

Yes, always, right up until the night the temptation he offered was more of a comfort than her chastity vows or her boyfriend and she'd let him take her to bed . . .

Okay, so Puck was a bad example.

* * *

><p>Coach had finally gotten bored of the pathetic display of pyramid building and had them run laps for the remaining time, something Quinn couldn't get out of. So she was feeling drenched with sweat as well as rain water by the time the two hour practice was up and she could finally head into the locker room.<p>

As was becoming her custom she didn't head into the showers immediately with the rest of the squad – she just didn't have the confidence to strip off in front of them all now – staving off comments about it by taking her role as head cheerleader very seriously. As everyone else took off their soggy uniforms she went to the closet and handed out towels – remembering as she did that there was one missing, which was _just great_ because it meant there wouldn't be one left for her. Then she put the pompoms and batons away in the equipment cupboard. Wet pompoms felt disgusting! In the past these were jobs she'd happily delegated to someone lower down the Cheerios food chain but they were certainly a useful procrastination tool right now.

"Do you want us to wait for you?" Brittany asked, dressing into a dry uniform.

"No, you guys go ahead. I'll see you tomorrow."

While she waited for the other girls to straggle out she pretended to be absorbed in the training roster but as soon as the door shut behind the last one she breathed a huge sigh of relief. If she didn't get this uniform off soon it was going to melt into her skin.

She was naked under the hot spray, enjoying an especially long shower because she was alone, when she heard the door open and close. She froze; if it was Coach Sylvester looking for her she was screwed! Looking down she sucked in her tummy. It really didn't make a difference. Oh God!

"Hello? Quinn?"

She exhaled sharply, feeling so much relief and annoyance that there was no room to feel uncomfortable as well.

"What do you want, Berry?"

"I, um, I came to return the towel." She rounded the partition and her eyes went wide before she quickly turned her back to Quinn. "Sorry!"

"Exactly what state of dress did you expect to find me in back here?"

"I . . . I wasn't thinking."

Seeing that Rachel was clearly nervous calmed her down and gave her back some confidence over the situation. Rachel was the enemy right now and it was always good to have your enemy off-balance.

"Sure you weren't."

"I wasn't!"

"Fine." Quinn turned off the shower and waited. Nothing happened. "So can I have the towel?"

"Oh, sorry." Berry thrust her arm behind her without looking.

"Thank you." She wrapped it around her and the scent of something fresh and citrusy wafted up.

It smelled different than usual. Coach insisted the scent of cheap, generic laundry detergent was the scent of champions, but whatever this was infinitely better. She gave it an audible sniff.

"It's Lemon Zest. It's the fabric softener my Dads use. It's supposed to make you feel invigorated."

"It's not bad. Maybe I should get you to wash my towels every day."

"I'm sure if you were to provide the softener and say, a dollar expenses a day, we could come to some arrangement. My college fund would appreciate the extra income."

"You'd charge me for washing my towels?"

Berry started to slowly turn around; peeking over her shoulder to make sure the towel was where it was supposed to be before fully facing her. "Would you wash my towels for free?"

"No but . . ."

"But what, Quinn? Do you think that just because you think you know something about me but have absolutely no evidence to back it up that I am suddenly going to become subservient to you? Perhaps it has escaped your notice that even after many years of you tormenting me, I have yet to bow down to you."

Quinn was thrown by Berry's reaction to what had started as a joke. Of course she didn't expect the girl to wash her towels but she _had_ expected Berry to jump at the chance to do something like that for her. Heck, there were at least two freshmen Cheerios and one sophomore who would gladly hand-wash her towels in tiger tears and asp milk if she asked them to.

Maybe Berry didn't have a crush on her then. Or maybe she was just so socially inept she didn't even know how to do that properly.

"Okay, no towel washing. You can run along now."

"Did I say something to offend you?"

"Every word you say offends me," she said as she breezed past the other girl to the lockers.

"I find that hard to believe."

"You shouldn't."

"I know we've had our differences in the past . . ."

"No, we haven't had differences, we _are_ different. Are you actually going to watch me get dressed?"

"Oh!" Berry turned her back again.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Do you remember what I said about things speaking volumes?"

In the following silence she took the towel from around her and used it to dry herself vigorously.

"Does . . . does that mean you want me turn back around?"

"No, it means you should do whatever you feel comfortable with, and the fact that you feel most comfortable turning your back to me . . ."

"I should probably go."

"If that's what you feel most comfortable with." Quinn took her fresh uniform out of her locker.

Damn, she was going through them fast this week. They were only assigned a limited number of uniforms each and after having to change yesterday because of the slushy incident she was already down one. If it was still raining and this one got wet too she'd be forced to wear regular clothes by the end of the week.

Coach had demoted people for less.

"Actually, wait."

Berry hadn't moved a muscle yet so the waiting came automatically. "Yes."

"If I ask to borrow your umbrella to walk to my car, are you going to charge me?"

"Of course not, but it doesn't seem fair that I have to get wet as a consequence."

"You're already wet."

"I'll have you know that I may have many qualities that you find less than appealing but being _wet_ is not one of them."

"I meant physically," Quinn explained with a derisive shake of her head.

"Oh, well in that case, yes I am rather damp."

"That's what you get for sitting on the bleachers in the rain. Which you were doing why exactly?

"I was waiting for you." To have her assumptions confirmed was both gratifying and terrifying. "To give you the towel in private. I thought you'd prefer that."

Quinn shrugged, that took nothing away from the fact that Berry had been there for her and not anyone else. She didn't have to wonder why that was important. An ego boost was always nice, especially when her ego needed all the boosting it could stand just at the moment.

And now she could practically taste the strawberry wine cooler on the tip of her tongue and hear Marvin Gaye crooning in the background. She pushed the memory or premonition or whatever it was away because there was still one big difference she could focus on: Puck equaled Boy, Berry equaled Loser Freak.

"Whatever, just don't make a habit out of watching me from the stands."

"I wasn't planning to."

Dry as she was going to get, Quinn started to dress. Once her underwear was on she said, "Okay, you can turn around again now."

Berry did so, caught sight of her bra and panties and spun back the way she had been facing.

"Oh my God, are you twelve?"

"No, it's just, after yesterday I don't think it's appropriate to see you half-dressed."

"Volumes, Berry. Large volumes."

"Believe as you wish, Quinn."

Smirking, she put on her uniform and went to the mirror to run a comb through her damp hair before pulling it up in the regulation high pony. "So about that umbrella?"

"You may have it if you must. But not because of . . . whatever reason you may think I am giving it to you, but simply because I am a charitable person and I would not like to see you get wet if I can do anything to help you avoid the situation. So you may have my umbrella." Quinn was making sure her purse, cell phone and keys were all in the pocket of her bag before zipping it closed. "Well, Quinn?"

"What? Oh, sorry, I stopped listening when you started speaking. Why don't you just walk me to my car? That way you can keep the umbrella and neither of us has to get wet again."

Rachel didn't argue and Quinn threw her towel in the laundry bin before grabbing her bag and heading for the door.

* * *

><p>She was walking Quinn Fabray to her car!<p>

And, she wasn't even sure why that felt like such a big deal but it was – her heart was skipping to a whole new beat and the clamminess of her hand holding the umbrella handle had nothing to do with the poor weather and . . . and there were butterflies, big cliché-ridden butterflies in her tummy. She was, dare she say it, nervously excited to be walking across the school's dull, wet parking lot with the girl whose main hobby was making her life a misery.

Her feelings were completely inappropriate and incomprehensible and Rachel . . .

"It's the one at the end there," Quinn said, gesturing towards the only car left in the lot and then dropping her hand with a sheepish chuckle as she realized she was being redundant. "Obviously."

. . . couldn't stop smiling!

There was a downside to her nervous-excitement though. Her umbrella wasn't that large and she could only imagine how it would be perceived if she huddled up close enough to Quinn to keep it completely over both of their heads. And she couldn't help making sure Quinn was more covered than herself. As a result her entire left side was feeling even damper than before, positively soggy in fact by the time they reached the bright red car.

As the cheerleader stepped forward to open the door, Rachel stayed back but held the umbrella up and out at arm's length so that she remained dry. Quinn laughed when she noticed this and turned in the space between the body of the car and the now open door to face her. Seeing the sparkle in her usually cool eyes, Rachel waited for the disparaging comment about her pathetic eagerness to please and steeled herself in preparation for it, only to flinch and squeeze her eyes shut when knuckles met softly with her cheek, brushing away some raindrops.

Quinn retracted her hand faster than she'd reached out and held it in a way that suggested she suspected it had been demonically possessed, but it didn't stop her from chuckling as she stage-whispered, "You're awfully jumpy for a girl with nothing to hide, Berry."

Rachel thought about possible answers, trying to settle on the most intelligent one, but in the end she just said, "I thought you were going to punch me."

"I _will _if you give me reason to, are we clear?"

She was being treated to a fairly intense look now, which she didn't understand the meaning of at all, but Quinn seemed to think she'd got it because after a nod of . . . approval? she turned to get into her car.

Rachel was already pulling the umbrella back over her own head – although it was a little late to worry about staying dry now – when Quinn stopped and turned back again. Rachel reacted quickly and Quinn glanced up, laughing softly to find herself being sheltered from the rain once more.

"I was just going to say thank you." After giving her a small, apparently friendly smile, Quinn slipped into the driver's seat and pulled the door closed.

Rachel continued to stand there, umbrella still in the air and _still_ _not_ over her own head even now. The smile, the thank you, had her routed to the spot. Such a simple enough thing, perhaps, but coming from Quinn Fabray and sounding genuine, that was _big_!

She had to step back as Quinn reversed out of her parking space and then she watched as she drove out of the lot without so much as a glance in her rear-view mirror. That was probably a good thing though, because if Quinn did happen to look back she'd see her standing in the pouring rain watching her leave and that might not send the most helpful message.

It was very important that she only sent the right messages from now on. It wouldn't do to give Quinn any more reasons to think she had romantic feelings for her – which she did not! – but at the same time their amiable interactions over the last twenty minutes or so – Quinn had touched her face! And smiled at her! – seemed like an excellent start to a lifelong, mutually-rewarding friendship and she would be a fool to let it pass her by.

She just needed an in, something that would be the first building block cemented into their friendship. Something that would make it not impossible - no even better, _acceptable_ - for her to walk Quinn to her car again, regularly, because friends did that all the time, right?

She nodded, although she wasn't certain, and then it dawned on her that she was still standing in the rain with her umbrella hanging open but useless at her side and it spurred her into action. She had to meet her Dad at the front of school any minute . . . she checked her watch . . . ten minutes ago anyway.

They'd exited through the rear doors closest to the gym and it would be quicker to retrace her steps and dash through the corridors than make her way around the outside of the building. So she was racing past the girls' locker room when the idea hit her; and it was exactly as if it _had_ hit her, because she stopped so suddenly her momentum carried her upper body forward a little before she rocked back on her heels.

She'd found it already. This was her building block towards a tentative friendship with the most popular girl in school.

She stared at the door to the locker room while she thought through the pros and cons of her idea and frowned when she realized there were far more cons. In fact there was only one pro: the chance to recreate Quinn's smile and gratitude as she inhaled the revitalizing lemon freshness. It could fatally backfire on her of course – okay, maybe not fatally, to her knowledge no one had ever died from a slushie attack – but if anyone found out besides Quinn . . . For that matter, Quinn herself might not appreciate the over-familiarity; she had said she was joking about it after all – and even if she hadn't been, was doing her laundry really a good precedent to set for their future?

All of these were very good arguments for why Rachel should just keep running to meet her Dad without any detours, but even though logic ruled against it she found herself, after a quick glance up and down the hall, pushing through the heavy door anyway. She stopped to listen for any sounds of Coach Sylvester inside before walking boldly (if extremely quickly) around the corner to where the large laundry bin was stationed. Luckily she knew which towel was Quinn's, she'd noticed the way a corner of it had snagged on the lid leaving a triangle of white terry-towel hanging down the side. She raised the plastic lid, nose wrinkling at the musty smell that rose up, and snagged the triangle between her finger and thumb. Pulling it clear she bundled it up before shoving it in her school bag.

It was only after she was sat in the passenger seat of her Dad's station wagon that she realized what she'd just done, which was steal Quinn's dirty towel. If anyone had seen her . . . ! She felt both guilty and anxious and thrilled about the risk she had taken and the combination made her feel slightly sick.

What if she was wrong? What if this afternoon hadn't been the start of something good but the prelude to something bad? What if she was being lulled into a false sense of security? What if Quinn's apparent niceness was simply subterfuge for another nasty prank? It would be true to form and Rachel hadn't forgotten how easily she had fallen for the _"Sweetie, we're a team now"_ just a few weeks ago that had led to the almost-spirit crushing experience that had been Dakota Stanley.

What if this was like that . . . only personal? Rachel had admitted to kissing her boyfriend after all and from what she knew Quinn didn't take such offences lightly and she already thought she had her ammo . . .

And she knew from experience that once it was out there no one would care if it was actually true or not.

She looked down at her bulging bag like it held a ticking time bomb and cringed slightly.

Of course, stealing Quinn's towel wouldn't help her fight her case either.

Perhaps she was being needlessly pessimistic though. There was every chance Quinn's friendliness just now had been genuine. Why shouldn't she hang on to that at least until it had been proven otherwise? There _was _no inappropriate crush and surely the cheerleader knew that deep down, and if not it was up to Rachel to prove it to her by showing nothing but a platonically friendly front.

Although, she had to admit to herself, if she could stop seeing Quinn _naked_ that would be so much easier to do.

* * *

><p><em>Tbc . . .<em>


	5. She gives me hot and cold fever

Hey, guys, thanks for the reviews for the last chapter :) And Happy Halloween!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four:<strong>

**She Gives Me Hot and Cold Fever**

"What did you think was going to happen, Stubbles?"

Rachel looked around as the entire student body stood on the cafeteria tables for a better view; their laughter filled the large room, echoing eerily off of the walls.

"I fully understand why you told everyone, but why did you do have to do it when I was naked?"

"It's not my fault you want to get naked every time you see me."

"It's not every time."

"So you just thought the lunch line would be a nice safe space to express yourself?"

"No, I don't think I did think." She looked around anxiously. There were even more people, she was sure her entire ballet class had just joined the hecklers. "But I think I would like to leave now."

"That's right, run away and hide." Quinn shook her head derisively. "You're such a freak, Rachel. Seriously, what are you so scared of?"

The laughter around her was reaching a crescendo, hands slapping the lunch tables like a slow, torturous drumroll and she couldn't make her arms work to cover her body the way she desperately wanted to as Quinn mocked her, leading the jeering crowd.

The drumming became knocking and she jolted fully away at the sound of her door opening.

"Honey, are you okay?" Her Dad called over the music. "You're going to be late for school if you don't get up now."

"What?" She tried to push herself up in alarm but she'd been sleeping on her tummy, arms tucked beneath her and they were numb. They were as useless now as they had been in her dream and caused her to gracelessly slam face first back into her pillow. "Arrgh!"

She couldn't be late again. And she still had a towel to wash. She'd left it until this morning so that it would retain as much of the fresh scent as possible, but now she'd overslept and it was going to smell exactly as it had yesterday when she'd fished it out of the laundry bin – only the unpleasant musty smell would be a day older and therefore worse!

It hadn't even been twenty four hours and she was already messing this up.

* * *

><p>Quinn noticed her parents were watching her and instantly felt dread as she stood from the breakfast table and walked to the fridge for a second glass of juice. What had they noticed? Her Cheerios top held her slightly (disgustingly) bloated stomach in nicely. She'd thrown up twice already since waking but the morning sickness seemed to have passed quickly today and she was actually feeling quite refreshed for once. So what was with the scrutiny?<p>

She hadn't accidentally said, "I'm pregnant!" over her toast and jam, had she?

She looked down at her top. "Did I spill something?"

Her Mom gave a loud fluttery titter and Quinn had to curb the impulse to taste-test her breakfast juice. "Not that I can see."

"You just seem awfully chipper today," her Dad said, sounding upbeat despite only being on his second black coffee of the day.

"You're bouncing," her Mom added.

"I am?" She looked down at herself again dubiously.

"You could hardly keep still in your seat." Her Dad turned the page of _The_ _Lima Daily_ he was reading. "Something good happening at school today?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

Seriously, they were freaking her out.

"I bet she just can't wait to see Finn," her Mom said with a knowing smile.

Her Dad looked up. "I take it things are getting serious between you two then."

Quinn choked on her orange juice. "No, why would you think that?"

"Relax, Sweetheart, I'm teasing. Although it would be nice if you brought the boy around more often. We see so little of him it's hard not to think that you're trying to hide something."

She set the juice aside before she accidentally killed herself with it. "No, we have nothing to hide."

"So does he have something special planned for today?" Her Mom asked.

"I shouldn't think so."

Her Mom didn't let up, apparently eager to live vicariously through her. "Then how come you're so excited to get to school?"

"I . . . don't know." And she hadn't realized she was until it had been pointed out to her, but now just getting away from this conversation was reason enough. "But I should go."

She kissed both parents swiftly on the cheek before bouncing . . . no, _walking_ out of the house.

* * *

><p>Rachel made it to school with one minute on the clock and ran through the doors. The white bag bounced against her thigh, its contents still had that fresh-from-the-dryer warmth evident through the plastic every time it met her skin.<p>

She'd really wanted to give it to Quinn before school but she just didn't arrive early enough to catch her by her locker, and in the classes they shared that morning Quinn was always seated far away from her and accompanied by either Santana or Finn.

So she carried the bag around with her, waiting for an opportunity, but she couldn't very well go up to Quinn in front of everyone and hand over, when it came right down to it, a stolen towel. A towel stolen in a very stalker-like way, although without any stalkery intent obviously, but that might not come across right away, which was why Rachel also dismissed the idea of following Quinn into the bathroom between third and fourth period to hand it over.

By lunch she was desperate – partly to discover Quinn's reaction to her good deed but mostly just to get rid of the offending item before anyone asked her why she was carrying a towel around with her all day! She had already received curious looks (to put it politely) from Mercedes, Artie and Santana when they'd passed her in the halls.

Kurt joined her in the lunch line and she smiled at him automatically. He nodded back but no words were exchanged. Normally she'd think he was rude but today she was happy to shuffle along in silence.

And then he had to go and ruin it, "Rachel, I really have to ask . . ."

"I'm going swimming at the community center after school," she blurted.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your rampant case of athlete's foot, but I was going to say, do you honestly think the pink and blue argyle sweater vest, quaint as it is, goes with the burnt umber cardigan?"

"I, ah . . ." Rachel looked down at herself. ". . . dressed in a hurry this morning."

"Clearly."

"This is burnt umber?"

"Well, you probably know it as brown."

Quinn had just sat down at a lunch table alone and Rachel wasn't going to get another opportunity like this.

"Thank you, Kurt. I'll take your criticism of my dress sense under advisement."

"If only." He continued to speak but Rachel was already walking away. "Well, that was rude."

She grinned nervously, his comment not really registering; in fact she didn't even notice she was carrying an empty tray as she approached Quinn. The towel-filled bag felt heavier with every step she took.

* * *

><p>Quinn had chosen to eat alone because she had some reading to do for fifth period. She'd meant to do it the night before but had been curiously on edge, going to bed ridiculously early as a result. Not that she'd slept much and when she had drifted off she'd been plagued with weird dreams, which probably accounted for the twitchy behavior her parents had noticed.<p>

She was just turning to the second page of the chapter when a tray clattered down next to her own, making her jump slightly. She looked over to see Santana poking at a cucumber and carrot salad. Brittany was sitting the other side of her, stealthily pouring some salt on her own salad – that would be ten laps if Coach caught her.

"So what are you doing at the loser table?" Santana asked.

Quinn didn't look up from her book. "Excuse me, I was the only one sitting here until you nearly knocked me out of my seat."

Santana smirked, "Exactly."

"Amusing."

"Oh no," Brittany said quietly. "Make it stop."

Quinn didn't take her eyes off of her page but Santana looked up. "What's . . .? Oh, for Christ's sake."

Now she looked, saw what was coming towards them and, with a roll of her eyes, stared back down at her book.

"I'm sorry to disturb you . . ."

"And yet you're doing it anyway," Santana interrupted, "Don't you think that's a little impolite?"

Quinn smirked but kept her head down.

"I was hoping to speak to Quinn alone, which she was when I started to come over, but obviously . . ."

"Now she's not."

"True, but, perhaps . . ."

"You should go away," Brittany said quietly. "No offense, I'm only saying it because I like you. Well, actually, I don't really, much, but if I did like you I'd tell you to go away."

"Oh. Why?"

"Because we're going to be mean to you and I wouldn't want anyone I liked to have to go through that."

As Brittany finished speaking Santana used her fork to flick a chunk of cucumber. It bounced off of Rachel's chin and landed by Quinn's book. Without looking up she flicked it to the floor.

To her credit, Rachel didn't react to the direct hit. "Well, while I appreciate your concern Brittany, I really need to speak to Quinn alone."

"You really don't," she said, head still down.

"Actually, it's of some . . ." Another piece of cucumber hit her face. ". . . importance."

"Then if it's that important tell me here."

"Yeah, come on, Stubbles, share with the group," Santana said wickedly.

"It's not really . . ."

Santana didn't let her finish. "You got a secret, Berry? Something dirty you wanna whisper in Q's ear?"

Quinn flicked narrowed eyes Santana's way, wondering just what she'd figured out and whether or not she had a reason to be worried about it, but it was clear from her friend's expression she was just trying to score a random hit. She glanced up at Rachel just long enough to see her go red and start stammering before setting her eyes back on her book with a hidden smile.

"No, no, of course it's not a secret and . . . and why would it be dirty? I just . . . there was something . . . It wasn't important."

Rachel left quickly, leaving an empty tray on the table.

Laughing, Santana chewed a carrot and asked, "What's her deal?"

Quinn shrugged, finally relaxing again now that Rachel had left. She was more concerned with what her own _deal_ was right now.

* * *

><p>After fifth period Quinn was feeling a little queasy again so she detoured into the bathroom on the way to sixth.<p>

Leaning over the sink, she splashed cool water on her cheeks, hoping the sickness wouldn't come if she just took a few deep breaths.

She was on her third when the door inched open. A look in the mirror showed Berry standing just inside it, looking nervous. Quinn groaned and splashed more water on her face.

"Why are you bothering me like this?"

Rachel didn't seem to realize she was speaking to herself and stepped forward. "I don't mean to bother you and I'll go in just a moment. It's just . . . I have something for you." Quinn could see in the mirror she was carrying a full plastic bag. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she snapped and reached for some paper towels. There weren't any. Damn! She stared angrily into the mirror, watching the water drip off of her chin. This was just great. "So what did you want to give me? And if it's what I think it is, I'm really not interested."

In the mirror, Rachel looked affronted but she didn't say anything, just took another step closer and held out the bag. Turning, Quinn took it from her and opened it. Seeing the contents, her eyes widened with confusion but she couldn't help smiling too.

She got it under control fast and, with a raised eyebrow, asked, "Seriously?" as she took the towel out of the bag. "Did you sneak back into the locker room after we left yesterday or something?"

"Or something." Rachel ducked her head. "Or, you know, exactly that."

"Berry, you really are a . . ." Quinn lifted the towel, only intending to dry her dripping face, but then the fresh scent of it washed over her and for the first time in an hour her nausea completely faded.

"A freak, I know," Rachel finished for her quietly. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have taken it without permission, although you did sort of give me permission in a roundabout way and . . ."

"Shut up."

There was silence for a minute before, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Quinn was still holding the towel draped over her face, taking deep, even breaths. She was scared to take it away in case the feeling of sickness came back.

"I'm good."

"Okay. If . . . if you want some alone time with the towel, I could leave."

Quinn had to laugh at that, a real laugh that surprised her. She flipped the towel so it was still over her nose and mouth but she could see the other girl.

"Like you don't want to watch me have alone time with your towel."

Rachel blushed but smiled, "Well, it's actually your towel; it's just my fabric softener."

"It's a miracle potion." Okay, from the look in Berry's eyes she was starting to freak her out. She pulled the towel away from her face but held it close in case she needed it again. "So was there anything else?"

"Well, actually, while we are here." Rachel hesitated before saying in a rush, "I'd like to know what you have said to Santana and Brittany about me."

Quinn played it cool, "Today? I may have mentioned your hideous fashion sense once or twice."

She hadn't, because she'd only just noticed what she was wearing. That cardigan with that sweater sort of made her eyes want to bleed. Quinn really had to take her shopping and sort that disaster out once and for all . . .

Wait, what? That was never happening.

"Why?" she asked, breathing in the towel again.

"Oh, no reason. Is that all, really?"

"What else would I say?"

Rachel looked at her feet. "Nothing, I guess."

It was getting awkward and because Quinn didn't do awkward she thought about telling her to beat it, but then she remembered the towel – the wonderful, sickness-stopping towel.

"I haven't said anything."

Rachel looked up fast. "Really? But what Santana said at lunch . . .?"

"She was just messing with you. I was as surprised as you that she went there, but seriously, if you continue to behave as you have been the last couple of days – waiting for me on the bleachers and coming to talk to me at lunch – she's going to figure out you have a crush on me."

"I do _not_ have a crush!"

"If you say so."

"I do."

Quinn nodded and was going to leave it at that. What did she care anyway, right? She should get going. It meant putting the towel in her bag because she couldn't exactly walk around with it in her hands like a comfort blanket. She took one more lungful of its scent first to see her through.

As she pulled it away from her nose she found herself saying, "You can be honest with me, you know."

And then she panicked, because what the hell? She didn't want to talk about this! It was insane to encourage her. Her meltdown was internal however; the only external show of it the way she was gripping the towel a little tighter and pulling it up to her face again.

"I find that hard to believe."

"For two minutes consider this a safe space. You can tell me whatever's on your mind and I promise no laughter, no mocking, no retribution."

'_Stop talking! Stop talking and walk away before she says something that forces me to . . . to what? Beat her up? Run away screaming? Actually engage in an honest and mature discussion with her about . . . curiosity?'_

Rachel eyed her warily and perhaps a little hopefully, and Quinn knew she had exactly the same expression on her own face, only she was lucky enough to have a towel covering most of it. Rachel's mouth opened once, twice with no words coming out and Quinn was holding her breath, waiting for the confession.

"I have nothing to tell you."

Quinn sighed, the moment was broken and she felt her intense irritation for all things Rachel Berry rise in her again, magic towel or no magic towel.

"Okay, fine, you don't have a crush. I was trying to be . . . sympathetic or whatever, but if that's truly the case then your pathetic behavior ends now. You don't wait for me after practice ever again. You don't come _near_ the showers when I'm in there. And you don't talk to me at lunch, in fact you don't talk to me at all unless I give you permission, do you understand?"

"Yes." Rachel was looking at her feet again

"Good." She shoved the towel in her bag. "And if you break just one rule even a little bit, Santana will know what we both _already_ know, and about three minutes after that so will the rest of the school."

She didn't know if she was bluffing about that or not, but she wasn't going to hang around and wait to be called on it. She was at the door when Rachel spoke again.

"So Quinn." She looked over her shoulder. Rachel was actually smiling; there was just no repressing that damn perkiness. "Does that mean you didn't mind me seeing you in the shower when you thought I did have a crush on you?"

Quinn honestly didn't know whether she wanted to flush Berry's head down the toilet for her audacity or congratulate her for the quick comeback. She bit her lip until she could stop her traitorous mouth from grinning.

"You just broke rule four." She took her cell phone from her bag. "Guess I'm going to have to give Santana some gossip after all."

Rachel took a step closer, finally looking panicked. "Please, don't."

"What's in it for me?"

"I'll . . . I'll wash your towel for you again tonight! You certainly seemed to appreciate it today, a little too much even, so I think that would be a suitable exchange for your cooperation."

Quinn really couldn't say no to that. "Fine. But I'm keeping this one so you'll have to take another out of the dirty laundry bin." Rachel's nose wrinkled but she nodded. "Now, you've used up your free pass today, don't talk to me again."

The parting shot wasn't quite as cutting as she'd have liked, but Quinn didn't dwell on it. She was going to get plenty more chances to screw with the girl.

The hard part was going to be trying not to look forward to it so much.

* * *

><p>Glee club was being surprisingly uneventful. Rachel thought it was probably because she was sitting at the back quietly rather than doing her usual job of trying to jolly everyone else along. Honestly, nobody else put half as much effort in as she did and that was being made clear by the lackluster atmosphere in the room. Mr. Schuester was doing his best, of course, but he really wasn't as good at motivating them as she was.<p>

She listened idly as he tried to rouse some spirit but if it wasn't working on her, the most dedicated member they had, then it certainly wasn't going to work on the rest of them. Of course, she had other, more pressing things on her mind right now and the very fact that it was distracting her from performing was worrying, but that's why she had to think about it so hard, so she could move beyond the distraction and concentrate on what was important once more.

Because . . . because she really did not have a crush on Quinn Fabray. Obviously Quinn was very attractive, that was something she _had_ noticed long ago, and okay Rachel could admit that if she was sexually attracted to girls then Quinn would have been a prime target for her adolescent hormones to focus on, but she had always believed she was straight. She'd felt a deep affection for nearly every leading lady she'd seen in a musical – sometimes to the point of infatuation for months at a time – but that hadn't been physical attraction so much as a deep yearning to be the leading lady's best friend.

She didn't know how to explain that that was all she wanted now – with Quinn – when the girl in question seemed hell-bent on believing it was something more. Why was she so fixated on the idea of Rachel having a crush on her in the first place? Was her ego just that big that she assumed that everyone must be in love with her? Actually that didn't sound so far-fetched; it was Quinn Fabray after all.

She surreptitiously glanced at Quinn, sitting on the bottom row of seats with Santana and Brittany. They were her best friends; everyone knew that, doing everything as a trio since Middle School including climbing to the top of the Cheerios pyramid together. They were the three most popular girls in school. They were, with their respective boyfriends, the pinnacle of McKinley Royalty. They were untouchable, in every sense of the word, and none more so than Quinn and it was making her mouth water right now to even think about getting close to that, to _her_.

In a purely platonic, non-sexual way of course, she couldn't stress that enough.

"Okay, seeing as no one's jumping forward to make any suggestions," Mr. Schuester seemed to look pointedly at her which had the ice water effect of bringing her out of her head and back to the here and now. "I'll take it upon myself. Groups of three. You can pick the genre but the _song_ has to be about teamwork and friendship. Guys, it's time we start acting like we belong together."

Rachel watched dolefully as Quinn started to talk about the assignment with the other two cheerleaders. Finn automatically moved over to sit by Puck, and Matt joined them. Mike looked at them for a second, lost, and then turned with a grin to point at Artie and Tina before plopping down onto the bench beside the girl. Kurt and Mercedes teamed up and Rachel ducked her head as she realized she had to go and join them. Neither of them liked her very much - well, she amended, obviously no one did, that's why she hadn't been picked at all.

She perked up a little knowing at least she was grouped with inarguably the two singers with the level of talent closest to her own. She made her way over to them but before she could seat herself, Mr. Schuester spoke again.

"Actually, you know what, that's too easy. I'll assign the groups. Finn, you're with Tina and Brittany. Puck, Artie and Mercedes, you're together."

"How'm I supposed to be friendly with those two geeks?" Puck complained.

And Mercedes snapped back, "Hey, watch who you're calling a geek, brush head."

Mr. Schuester ignored them as he ran a finger over who was left. "Uh, Kurt, Santana and Matt, you guys get together and that just leaves . . ."

Rachel was already looking at her feet and even from all the way across the room she heard Quinn sigh. Mike dropped lightly down in the seat next to her.

He held out his hand, "I'm Mike."

"I know, we've been in Glee together for a few weeks now."

"Oh, right," he looked confused for a moment. "But we've never been formally introduced, right?"

"I'm Rachel Berry."

"Oh, sure, I knew that."

Despite the fact that he didn't seem to know who she was, his smile was genuine and friendly enough that Rachel smiled bashfully back as she shook his hand.

"If you two want to get a room I can wait."

Rachel let go of Mike's hand quickly when she realized Quinn had taken the seat on the other side of her – although she didn't know why; showing interest in a boy could only help her at this point.

"So what song should we sing, and by _we _sing I mean you two, I'm more of a dancer."

"I've seen you," Rachel nodded, "You're very good. Have you been taking lessons long?"

"No, never. I just like to dance in my room."

"Seriously, that's amazing. You have so much talent. I imagine if you . . ." Rachel paused when Quinn cleared her throat. "Mike, I apologize for being a burden but would you mind asking Quinn if I'm allowed to speak to her?"

He'd been smiling at her compliments but now he looked confused again, his eyes passing from her to Quinn and back. "Uh."

"Thin ice, Berry."

Rachel smiled at Mike, "Could you ask her if that's a yes?"

"Uh? Quinn?"

Beside her Quinn sighed and when she spoke she didn't sound happy, "Yes."

Rachel turned happily to her. "Okay, what song should we sing? I'm thinking something like . . ." She was being glared at. "Did I do something wrong?"

"What do you think?"

Rachel hesitated, "I think I was keeping to the rules."

"What rules?" Mike asked.

Quinn spoke over him. "I meant what song were you thinking of."

"Oh."

"How about Queen's 'You're My Best Friend'?" Mike suggested.

While Rachel considered it, Quinn just glared at him, "How about we dial it down a notch?"

"Okay," Rachel said, "What about '_With A Little Help From My Friends_ by The Beatles? It's generic enough that it won't feel false but it's still a nice catchy song."

"That will do," Quinn agreed. When Mike just grinned amiably, she added, "Well, go tell Mr. Schuester before anyone else claims it."

As the boy bounced off of his chair to eagerly do Quinn's bidding, Rachel smiled. "I think he likes you."

"And I think he likes you."

Their eyes met and it was sort of uncomfortable but she didn't look away.

Neither did Quinn. "You should go for it."

"Maybe I will."

Another moment of silence passed between them.

"Fifth rule, you don't look at me unless I tell you you can."

"Okay."

"Still looking, Berry."

"Sorry. But so are you."

Mr. Schuester suddenly clapped his hands and Rachel jerked her eyes to the front guiltily. "Okay, we have four excellent song choices. I want you ready to perform them Friday."

"But that's in two days," Rachel protested.

"They don't have to be polished, guys, just heartfelt. Okay, see you tomorrow."

As most of the club left, Rachel grabbed Quinn and Mike's arms. "We only have forty-eight hours! We need to practice our performance."

Quinn pushed the hand off of her arm. "So we'll practice. Auditorium tomorrow, lunch time."

Rachel nodded, and as Mike and Quinn left together she nodded again. She could have sheet music and lyrics ready by then easily. That just left an entire choreography number to come up with in less than twenty-four hours.

It would be a relief to have something only almost impossible to focus on for a while.


	6. If I sang out of tune, would you walk?

Hi there. Sorry for the delay between updates, NaNoWriMo took over everything for November, but it shouldn't happen again (at least not until next November). Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter :) I meant to reply individually but I can't remember if I did or not, so if not THANK YOU! I appreciate every comment that comes my way.

Song used is _A Little Help From My Friends _by The Beatles

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five: <strong>

**If I sang out of tune, would you stand up and walk out on me?**

Thursday morning Rachel once again felt sleep-deprived but at least it was for a good cause this time. After staying up an hour past her usual bedtime to work on the Glee assignment, she had been wide awake again by five-thirty a.m. so that she could complete her usual routine (elliptical workout, shower, breakfast), her new routine (wash Quinn's towel, have minor panic attack about washing Quinn's towel incorrectly, spend far too long wondering why she was washing Quinn's towel in the first place) and get to school thirty-minutes earlier than normal so that she could stand in the auditorium and envisage their performance on the stage.

It was going to seem very large with only the three of them up there, especially as Mike would only be dancing, but her own commanding stage presence would hopefully be enough to make up for it. She tried to remember the level of Quinn's dancing ability but she really hadn't had much opportunity to assess it yet. Still, she was a cheerleader and you only had to look at her body to see that she was extremely athletic – and obviously she _had_ looked at her body! – and she was about the right height to make the perfect dance partner for Mike. Perhaps, with Quinn's occasional tendency to go sharp, it would be better to have them both dancing around her while she took care of the vocals by herself.

She looked down at the page of notes and diagrams she'd made, trying to decide the best course of action. As _interesting _as she'd found the idea of being grouped with Quinn for this assignment yesterday, now it was becoming plain that she had drawn, or rather been assigned, the short straw. Obviously it was a wonderful opportunity to showcase her talent of directing under difficult circumstances, but with such a short timeframe she wished it wasn't going to be quite _this _difficult.

She was still scribbling down notes and amendments to those notes when the bell rang and she realized with some alarm that she was going to be late for American Lit. _again. _

She ran through the school, down increasingly empty corridors, until she reached the classroom door and then paused for a moment to compose herself before breezing in and calmly (and professionally, she felt) offering her sincere apology.

"I am so sorry I'm . . ."

"Hudson, I saw that. Front of the class!"

Surprised at being shouted over, Rachel indignantly blurted, "What did he do this time?"

Mr. Laxforth eyed her disdainfully. "Late again, Miss Berry."

"As I was saying, I'm very . . ."

"Just take your seat." She took fast steps to the last chair in front, meaning to get there before Finn did. "Not that one. That's Mr. Hudson's seat for the rest of the semester."

"The rest of the semester!" Finn groaned and Rachel mentally echoed him as she dragged her feet to the desk at the back, feeling her still bruised knees throb at

just the thought of taking that seat again.

Perhaps it would be prudent to purchase some form of padded protection if she was going to be forced to sit beside the demon cheerleader all semester.

Quinn didn't look at her as she sat down and, mindful of the _rules, _Rachel didn't glance at her either. She did want to break the rules though, if only to ask why Finn was once again in trouble, but whispering wasn't a viable option because Mr. Laxforth was reading to them from the _The Call of the Wild_ and he had ears like a bat. And so she sat there, trying to take notes on the chapter like _most_ of the other students, while feeling as tense as a violin string; and like a violin string she seemed to be reverberating inside every time Quinn plucked her . . .

She felt her cheeks get warm at her internal and accidental innuendo.

_Mentally_ plucked her, obviously, and by plucked she meant every time Quinn moved or cleared her throat or breathed or . . . Why was she explaining this to herself? She just had to _stop _thinking about her altogether!

She reverberated all over the place when Quinn not only shifted in her seat but also used the subtle movement to push her notepad an inch across the desk. Rachel looked automatically, registering that there was a question on the page before darting her eyes back to her own paper. Was the question for her? It wasn't as if there was anyone else here to read it but if she assumed wrong . . .?

In the end curiosity won out and she glanced for a little longer at the notepad. There were two paragraphs of notes on the chapter so far – more than Rachel had managed to write – and then after a couple of blank lines were the words:

_Why are you blushing?_

Rachel's eyes darted once more to her own mostly white page. After a few seconds of breathing funny, she carefully wrote back:

_I'm not!_

She stayed leaning over the desk, not wanting to accidentally catch Quinn's eye, but pushed the pad forward a little so that her answer could be seen.

Quinn was clearly taking notes again and after a few seconds Rachel, assuming that was the end of their communication, allowed herself to breath easily and concentrate on the reading. That lasted until Quinn's pad was edged to the side and she couldn't help but look right away.

_You're blushing even more now. What are you thinking about? _Even as Rachel was reading it Quinn added, _Eager much?_

Rachel sighed, knowing she was _definitely_ blushing now. She _was_ eager, because no one had ever exchanged notes with her in class before. It was exciting and, even if Quinn was only doing it to mock her, it felt good.

_I'm not aware of the correct etiquette for note swapping. Is there a specified time_ _I'm supposed to make you wait for a reply?_

Obviously so, because Quinn made her wait for a couple of minutes before she read it. Rachel's nerves were taut the entire time but she knew when the note had been read because Quinn clucked her tongue in disapproval. Rachel deflated; that was the end of that then.

A few seconds later, under another two paragraphs of pleasant penmanship, Rachel was allowed to read:

_LOL_

She stared at the tiny acronym, hardly able to believe it was there on the page. Maybe Quinn hadn't been so disapproving after all. Smiling to herself, _The Call of the Wild_ was now completely forgotten as she scribbled out,

_I was wondering what Finn did wrong this time?_

There was a pause, but not because Quinn hadn't read it right away; Rachel had seen her eyes flick to it almost at once, and not because she was busy taking notes on the chapter either because her pen remained hovering over the page. She was clearly giving her answer some serious thought.

_That's what you were blushing for? You were seriously thinking about Finn while sitting next to me? I think I'm a little offended, Berry ;)_

It was hard to convey tone on a piece of paper so Quinn had helpfully drawn a winking smiley too. Never mind the teasing; Quinn was drawing her smileys! Rachel could feel her heartbeat getting faster, not just in her chest but everywhere it seemed. Her hand trembled as she responded, making the first couple of words a little shaky.

_I was actually just wondering what led to me having the pleasure of sitting next to you for the rest of the semester._

That sounded too forward, didn't it? Friends wouldn't throw words like 'pleasure' around with such abandon. They would just say . . . What would they just say? _Whatever, girlfriend! _Frowning, head shaking at her lack of aptitude in this, she dismissed that idea all together. Even if it had remotely fit the question she couldn't call Quinn 'girlfriend'; that was asking for her to get the wrong idea.

Intending instead to just black out some of the words to make it less _enthusiastic, _Rachel reached into her gold star encrusted pencil case for a black marker but, guessing her intention, Quinn displayed reflexes like a cat to reach under her arm and pull Rachel's pad into her view.

"No!" She realized her mistake at once.

Mr. Laxforth looked up from the book. "Is something wrong?"

Suddenly Rachel realized the benefit of sitting at the back of class – the teacher could hear but not see disturbance.

"I'm afraid my pen is out of ink but it would seem my alarm was premature because I appear to have another." She was proud of her quick thinking even if her voice was shrill enough to give away her panic. "Could you possibly just read that last paragraph again please?"

And there was the benefit to being an attentive student – _usually_ – because while Mr. Laxforth didn't seem to like her, his annoyance at her interruption was apparently mollified by her eagerness to learn. With a nod he went back to the book and began to re-read.

Rachel's notepad was pushed back to her and under her own handwriting Quinn had written:

_Smooth._

Was she referring to Rachel's note or the way she had handled Mr. Laxforth? And there wasn't a smiley this time leaving her no indication of just how derisive Quinn's reply was meant to be.

Under the guise of catching up, Rachel bent her head again and scribbled fast.

_If you're referring to my note, I mis-spoke, however, if you are referring to my quick thinking in a dangerous situation, then that is because I am an excellent improv actress._

A few seconds passed before Quinn offered a look at her notepad.

_Not sure what worries me more – You mis-speaking, or you thinking __that_ _was a dangerous situation._

Again Rachel had to read it several times before she could formulate a reply.

_Why would my mis-speaking worry you?_

She watched out of the corner of her eye as Quinn put pen to paper and then forcefully crossed out her first few words before starting to write something else.

Rachel held her breath in anticipation – would Quinn's response reveal some clue as to the progress of their budding (or soon to be budding hopefully) friendship? Would it explain some of the mystery behind Quinn's inconsistent yet undeniably thawing attitude towards her? Would it offer a perspective of what it truly meant to be within Quinn's inner circle?

No, was the answer.

When she could finally see the pad she sighed in frustration. After the scribbled out sentence were the words,

_I bet you're really wondering what I wrote first, aren't you?_

She wrote _Yes_ and then put a single line through it before writing _No, I'm not that interested._

Hearing Quinn chuckle under her breath made Rachel smile so hard she had to duck her head again and hide behind her curtain of hair so that Quinn couldn't see. She'd made her laugh _twice_! Okay, so the first time had only been on paper but she was still counting it.

Quinn had time to write one more note before Mr. Laxforth finished reading.

_You are so interested it must be embarrassing for you._

"Okay, class, I'm going to hand out the questions on today's chapter. As usual you may discuss the answers amongst yourselves, but quietly please, and if I hear any conversations about what happened on American Idol last weekend or the like, I will be handing out detentions. Okay, go to it."

Rachel had always worked through the questions alone, sitting at the front by herself with nobody paying any attention to her whatsoever. She smiled knowing this time would be different. She had Quinn to talk to about them and, as the cheerleader had probably paid much more attention to the reading than she had, that could only be a good thing.

Her hopes were soon dashed. As soon as Quinn passed the stack of work papers to her she took her chair and moved it across the aisle and Charity and Reena, the two other Cheerios in the class, were treated to Quinn's insight on the chapter instead.

Refusing to be upset, after all she should have expected it, Rachel got to work. The first five were easy enough but the second five she struggled with – she really hadn't been paying any attention at all to the latter half of the chapter. Casting many annoyed glances at the back of Quinn's head, she racked her brain to remember anything that would help her answer correctly.

She was still dithering over question six when Mr. Laxforth announced that they had ten minutes left.

Quinn moved her chair back into place, glancing towards Rachel's paper as she did so, and she didn't know how it was possible but Rachel _heard her _roll her eyes. Sitting comfortably back in her seat, she left her own work in clear view.

Looking only long enough to see that all of her answers were neatly filled in but not long enough to read any of them, Rachel hunched over again. Surely a few snippets of the reading had made it through her excitement at passing notes with the head cheerleader?

"Don't be a hero, Berry," Quinn muttered.

"I'm not going to cheat off of you," she muttered back. "Even if it is your fault I wasn't listening in the first place."

"Don't blame me; I didn't force you to do anything."

Quinn's voice was strangely lacking in emotion, in fact it sounded positively dead. Rachel gave her a fleeting look. Quinn looked even paler than usual and her brow was damp with sweat.

"I believe we have a no looking rule."

They did, but Rachel ignored it. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I answered all of my questions, didn't I?"

"Yes, but . . . you don't look very well."

"I'm fine!" Quinn insisted but her eyes dropped to the desk and she swallowed hard. "Do you have something for me?"

The question surprised her, "I'm sorry, what?"

"You were going to do me a favor in return for me not telling everyone your little secret," Quinn prompted; the harsh tone she was going for lost as she had to swallow again.

"Oh! Yes, I have it with me. I didn't have time to go to my locker." She reached to grab the plastic bag propped against her backpack.

"Under the desk!"

Rachel passed it from one hand to the other in front of her knees and then Quinn snatched the bag from her and dropped her pen between them.

"Do you want me to . . .?" Rachel was already bending to retrieve it.

"Don't!"

She shot back up and watched as, when Quinn reached for the pen, she pulled the towel half out of its plastic confines and took a long sniff of it at the same time. Rachel's eyes darted nervously from Quinn's hunched form and around at the rest of the class, wondering what everyone else was making of this bizarre behavior, but her classmates were all rushing to finish their work papers and not paying them any attention at all.

Quinn inhaled the towel again.

What was this? Did Quinn have some weird drug problem? Were all the cool kids snorting fabric softener now? Was the cheerleader having some kind of towel-related breakdown? None of her guesses made any sense but then neither did Quinn ducking under the desk to sniff a towel. Some kind of mental issue was the only sensible explanation . . . but did that mean that Quinn was only being nice to her because she was going insane?

Strangely the thought didn't bother Rachel as much as it should have. If Quinn was on the verge of total mental collapse then surely it must mean something that she was prepared to show such weakness in front of her. Or no, it just meant she was _so_ insane that she didn't even know who she was showing said weakness in front of. Still, Rachel's heart went out to her.

She placed a gentle hand on Quinn's back, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Quinn flinched and raised her nose from the towel long enough to growl, "No, you're _touching_ me!"

"So?"

"Rules!"

Rachel frowned, "You never expressed a 'No touching' rule."

"Well, I am now."

"Okay." She took her hand away. "But really, are you okay? Do you need some water? Or some air?"

She watched as Quinn inhaled deeply again and nodded slightly. After retrieving her pen from the floor she straightened back up.

"Seriously, I'm fine." She still held the towel on her lap. "Why haven't you finished your questions yet?"

"I, ah . . ." Rachel looked down at her paper, embarrassed to admit that, "I don't know the answers."

"Right." Quinn's hands were gripping the towel beneath the desk and then she brought her right hand up over her nose as if she was sniffing her palm; it was extremely weird behavior. "So, question six, what it's asking is . . ."

"I told you I'm not cheating!"

"This isn't cheating, it's discussing the questions. Now do you want to discuss them or not?"

After a brief hesitation and another glance at Quinn's hands wrapping around the towel, she nodded. They worked for the remainder of the allotted time and when Mr. Laxforth called the lesson to a close, Rachel had answered all ten assigned questions, mostly in her own words, but the only answer she really cared about was the one that matched the question: Just what on Earth was the matter with Quinn Fabray?

And surely as Quinn's future but as yet undeclared New Best Friend, it fell to she, Rachel Berry, to figure it out.

* * *

><p>By lunchtime the morning sickness had abated but Quinn hung the towel around her neck anyway as she entered the auditorium. It wouldn't look out of place when she was learning a new routine and, as much as she hated it, just having it within easy reach was comforting.<p>

Mike and Rachel were already in there, sitting cross-legged on the stage and talking quietly. She heard Rachel laugh and tensed before shaking the discomfort off. Sure, she'd rather be having lunch with Finn right now but she could just about handle forty-five minutes in the dwarf's company.

"This a private party?" she asked, striding confidently up behind them.

They both looked up, mid-giggle, and she was a little disappointed that Berry didn't jump up at the sound of her voice but not enough to _care_. Mike got to his feet first, offering his hand to help Rachel up, and she happily accepted. Oh God, he was actually _interested_ in her! Did he have no taste?

Rachel didn't bother with a formal hello before shoving some sheets of paper into her hand. "Okay, so I spent last night thinking of how we should perform our song and the best way to express all of our talents equally and I have decided, and Mike has agreed, that it would be best if I sang and you two danced around me and joined in on the chorus. That way we'll fill up the stage with movement and . . ."

Quinn held up a hand, "Excuse me? You're treating this like a solo?"

"Not at all. Obviously all three of us will be performing, but I just feel that with my . . ."

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

Quinn knew it was like waving a big, red flag at a tiny and annoying little bull – complete with stamping hoofs right now – and she really didn't care enough about any of this so why? But Berry's superior attitude all the damn _time_ . . . it drove her nuts and forced her to take on situations she knew would backfire on her, like,

"I think _I_ should sing it and _you_ should dance with Mike."

Rachel looked confused, "But surely it's in all of our best interests to play to our strengths?"

"And you think you're a better singer than I am?"

"Of course, but I'm sure you're a better dancer than I am so . . ."

"You're unbelievable." Quinn shook her head. "You haven't even heard me sing it yet and you've already decided I'm not good enough!"

"I'm sorry, Quinn." Rachel didn't sound sorry in the least. "Why don't we have a sing off right now, just in the interests of fair play, and Mike can decide which one of us is best suited to sing the song."

"Fine," Quinn snapped.

"Actually, not really fine," Mike said, glancing back and forth nervously.

He was obviously worried about having to choose between them and the fact that he wasn't automatically going to choose her, whether she was better or not, riled Quinn up further.

"Suck it up, Chang," she snapped. "Unless _you_ want to sing lead vocals."

He shrank back, "Okay, I'm listening."

"Brad?" Rachel called out and Quinn saw the piano player raise his hand.

"Do you even know all the lyrics?" Rachel asked her.

She did, mostly, but a quick shuffle through the papers Rachel had handed her produced them anyway. "I have them right here."

"Fine. Mike, you have my notes on the choreography. Interpret them as you wish, I'm sure you'll be great."

Quinn glowered at the compliment, knowing it would sway Mike to Rachel's side. Before she could complain, Brad's intro was over and Rachel started to sing.

_What would you think if I sang out of tune  
>Would you stand up and walk out on me?<br>Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song  
>And I'll try not to sing out of key<em>

She was so screwed, she couldn't compete with that! Rachel might be nothing more than an annoying midget – okay, so occasionally she was a _funny_ annoying midget – but you couldn't fault her singing. If she had _one thing_ going for her, one thing that Quinn could admit to not hating about her, it was her amazing voice . . . and her magical healing fabric softener . . . and her boobs.

'_What? That's not true. I don't think that about her . . . about her . . .No!'_

Her inner-panic was apparently palpable because Rachel stopped singing halfway through the chorus (followed by Mike cutting himself off with an abrupt squeak as he realized he was suddenly singing alone) and took a concerned step closer.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she backed up and pointed a shaky finger at the other girl. "Keep them away from me. I mean, keep you away from me." Damn it! "You keep away from me."

With a nervous chuckle, Rachel glanced at Mike and then back to her, "I was nowhere near you."

"Just do as you're told, Manhands. I'm not having you win because you cheated by trying to put me off." There, that sounded plausible enough.

She bristled at Berry's muttered reply of, "I would never have to cheat to win this," but welcomed it, because at least it blew all thoughts of . . . _bad stuff _out of her head.

And then she called to Brad to start playing again.

_What do I do when my love is away?  
>(Does it worry you to be alone?)<br>How do I feel by the end of the day?  
>(Are you sad because you're on your own?)<br>_

She was annoyed when Rachel joined in with her to sing every other line – she wanted a whole verse to herself – but she didn't show it and then she belted out the chorus with Mike's soft crooning accompaniment.

_No I get by with a little help from my friends  
>Mm I get high with a little help from my friends<br>Mm going to try with a little help from my friends  
><em>  
>As their last words died away, Rachel held up her hand to stop Brad and then turned expectantly to Mike.<p>

"I, uh, you're both really good."

"Wuss," Quinn snapped and turned to Rachel. "So?"

"Honestly?" she hesitated, making Quinn's stomach drop, before smiling broadly. "I think it would work really well if we did it just like that."

Quinn smiled despite herself. "Me too actually."

Mike grinned happily but then turned a little worried as he asked, "But what about the rest of the song?"

Quinn looked briefly at the lyrics sheet in her hand. "We'll do the final verse as a duet and all join in on the choruses."

Rachel looked a little put out to be denied the opportunity to decide, but she nodded. "That sounds perfect. Mike, you're dancing was very nice, but I think it might add something to our performance if you danced with Quinn while I sang the first verse."

"By dance with Quinn you mean . . .?"

As Quinn watched Rachel stepped up to him, putting one hand on his waist and taking his hand in her other. "Brad?" she called and the intro started up again. As she began to sing the first verse she led Mike in a waltz around the stage. At the chorus she spun away from him while still keeping hold of his hand.

"And that's where you switch partners, I take your hand and we dance as Quinn starts to sing."

"Okay, I can do that."

"Okay, let's try it from the top."

Quinn smiled, stepping up to Mike as the intro began again. "You know how to lead, right?"

"Of course I do. Shut up, that was embarrassing!"

She just smirked as Rachel started to sing.

* * *

><p>They practiced for forty-five minutes of their lunch hour and Rachel only let them go then because Quinn threatened to punch her if she didn't stop. As it was she'd had to agree to return after school for another run-through.<p>

She hurried to the cafeteria, hungrier than ever, and as she got in line Santana joined it behind her.

"Where've you been?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Rehearsing for tomorrow."

"Seriously? I sat through five minutes of coming up with a song and I don't plan on doing any more than that."

Quinn glanced at her. "You don't want to be good?"

"I _will_ be good, but I'm with Elton and Matt. Don't wanna be spending any extra time with them, you know?"

"Matt's okay."

"Been there, done that, bored now. What about you?"

Her tray bypassed the hot food to the salads at the end and she pointed at the freshest looking one. "It's okay."

"Seriously? You're with Stubbles! How are you not tearing your hair out?"

"I like my hair."

* * *

><p>The nausea came back in the afternoon. She excused herself from Spanish and went to the bathroom. Standing by the sinks, she slowly inhaled the towel held over her mouth and nose.<p>

She half-expected Rachel to barge in on her again, because it was becoming something of a habit.

When, after ten minutes, Quinn felt the sick feeling subside she pushed the towel back into her bag and went back to class.

* * *

><p>Rachel looked up as she heard sneakers steadily making their way across the stage. She started to say hello but then thought better of it. She didn't know if Quinn's ridiculous rules still stood when they were actively working together but far be it for her to overstep the line between them.<p>

"Where's Mike?"

"He informed me after fifth period that he would be unable to make it due to football practice," she explained without looking up from her folder of notes.

"Right, well thanks for letting me know," Quinn replied sarcastically. She turned on her heel.

Rachel rose fluidly to her feet. "Wait. Where are you going?"

"You just told me rehearsal was off."

"No I didn't. I said Mike couldn't make it. That doesn't mean we don't still have work to do."

"But what's the point in practicing if we're not all here?" Quinn asked, exasperated.

"We both know Mike only has a minor role in this routine, and with his impressive ability to improvise his dance moves I don't think we have to worry too much about his performance. However, if you insist on singing with me then we still have much to get through."

"We ran through the first two verses a dozen times at lunch. How much more can there be?"

"Well, there's the last verse to start with and we have yet to practice the bridge." Quinn sighed impatiently. "If you had just agreed to let me handle the vocals on my . . ."

"No. You already get more than your fair share of solos."

"Fine, but it means you have to accept the extra workload that comes with the responsibility of singing."

"Fine," Quinn echoed her. "Where's the piano player?"

"Brad has a dentist appointment this afternoon but I had him record the music for us before he left." Rachel stepped across the stage to the CD player on top of the piano and pressed play. "We'll run through the first two verses again, just to make sure you haven't forgotten anything, and then we'll begin preparing the rest."

Quinn was bristling with indignation but she didn't have time to say anything before Rachel began softly counting them in. As soon as she started to sing she noticed that Quinn's annoyance faded from her face, replaced by concentration and – she hoped anyway – appreciation. They sang the chorus together and then Rachel dutifully stayed quiet while Quinn took the lead on the second verse, only joining in softly with every other line. After the next chorus Rachel hit pause on the CD player.

"That was nice but . . ." She noticed Quinn's look of annoyance came back as soon as they finished singing and so instead of launching into the constructive criticism she was about to offer, she hurried on. ". . . but now let's try the bridge. I think I should sing it."

"Doesn't the parentheses mean it's for two people?"

"What's your point?"

"That I should be singing two of the lines."

"Okay, which two would you like?" Rachel asked, getting a little annoyed herself.

"Let's try it both ways and see which sounds best."

There was really no room for arguing there and so she nodded. "I'll go first."

"What a surprise."

Ignoring that, Rachel pressed play again.

"_Do you need anybody?"_

"_I _–uh- _need somebody to love."_

Rachel pressed pause. "There's no 'uh' in it!"

"I know that! I lost my place for a second."

"It's five words!"

"Okay, you know what . . ." Rachel thought Quinn was about to storm out, but instead she said, ". . . I'll sing the first and third line, you can take the second and fourth."

"You're willingly giving up the lead?"

"Yes."

Rachel smiled smugly; obviously Quinn was finally accepting that her talent was superior. She held the rewind button down so that the CD skipped back a couple of seconds.

Quinn's timing was a little off as she sang, _"Do you need anybody?" _but that was something they could fix this afternoon.

"_I need somebody to love."  
><em>

Quinn read from the lyric sheet as she sang, _"__Could it be anybody?"_

Rachel smiled because she didn't have to. _"__I want somebody to love."_

She pressed pause and was about to rewind. "Again."

"No, not again. Let's move on."

Rachel sighed as she took her finger away from the button. "Anyone would think you didn't want to be here."

"Anyone would be right."

Rachel huffed quietly, placing her lyric sheet on top of the piano as she studied it. "I thought you enjoyed Glee Club."

"I do."

"Do you not like the song?"

"The song's fine."

"So it's just the company you don't like."

"Let's see, shall we? I could be at the Mall right now shopping with Santana and Brittany, but instead I'm in a dark auditorium singing what I have only just realized is pretty much a love song with Rachel-Manhands-Berry. You don't exactly need Advanced Calc to figure out the math."

"It's not a love song, it's about friendship!"

"Oh really." Quinn read from the lyric sheet. "'Would you believe in a love at first sight?' That sounds like a love song to me."

"It's just one person asking another if they believe in love at first sight, it's not a declaration."

"I disagree."

"So you're uncomfortable singing a love song with me?"

"Uh, yes."

"Why?"

"Wh . . ." Quinn shook her head as if the question was stupid. "What do you mean, why? I'd have thought that was obvious."

"It's not. After all, even if the song does have very mild romantic undertones it is primarily about friendship, which is the point of the assignment. I'd be surprised if anyone else jumped to the conclusion you just have, that conclusion being that we are singing a love song to each other, because _they_ would find the idea beyond belief."

Quinn's mouth opened and closed a few times.

"So unless you have a specific issue with asking my opinions on love at first sight through song then I don't believe we have a problem."

Quinn still wasn't managing to say anything.

"I do, by the way. And I also think you can see someone every day for a year and then suddenly see them in a different light and think 'Wow, I love you.'"

Quinn was just shaking her head.

"I take it you don't, believe in love at first sight that is?"

"I don't know." Apparently Quinn hadn't meant to voice that opinion because she shook her head harder now. "Love is something you grow into; it doesn't just happen."

"Perhaps you're right. It's possible that people are simply mistaken and it's not love they feel at first sight, but lust and then that . . ."

Quinn's eyes narrowed, "Can we just get back to the song?"

"Oh, of course." Rachel ducked her head back to the lyric sheet.

She'd been enjoying her first foray into 'girl talk' but she was obviously making Quinn uncomfortable with it. Why, she didn't know, because wasn't this the kind of the thing that girls were supposed to talk about with each other? She thought back to her one and only Celibacy Club meeting – she'd been disappointed with that too because surely there had to be more to the social life of a teenager than watching cheerleaders spin around in their uniforms. Maybe having friends and being popular just wasn't as exciting as she'd always assumed. She cut her eyes to the girl standing beside her or – more accurately, to her uniform – and totally without meaning to had a split second fantasy about Quinn spinning around; her skirt flying up as she twirled.

"Oh my God, did you just check me out?"

Rachel's guilty eyes shot up to meet Quinn's. "No! I was just thinking."

"About my legs?"

"No!" she said truthfully, well mostly truthfully. "I'm pressing play now. And as you seem to find the first line so suggestive, I'll take it."

She pressed play before Quinn could argue and began to sing. "Would you believe in a love at first sight?"

Quinn hesitated, making her timing more than a little off this time.

"Let's try that again." Rachel rewound the CD. _"Would you believe in a love at first sight?"_

Quinn came in perfectly this time. _"Yes I'm certain that it happens all the time."_

"_What do you see when you turn out the light?"_

_"I can't tell you, but I know it's mine."_

They sang the chorus together before Rachel hit pause. "See, that wasn't so bad."

"Don't patronize me, Rupaul!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that. I just meant you were really good."

"That would mean more if you didn't have a giant crush on me."

"I don't have a crush on you!"

"Whatever. Are we done here?"

Rachel grinned, "Hardly. Let's take it from the top."

Quinn sighed but didn't leave and that was all the encouragement Rachel needed to skip the CD back to the start.

They ran through it another six times from start to finish and while Rachel expected Quinn to grow more agitated with every repeat she insisted on, in fact the opposite happened.

"Okay, let's try it now with me dipping down on this line." They both poured over Quinn's lyric sheet as she pointed to where she meant. "And you coming in a little faster with the next."

Rachel nodded happily. "Okay, but I don't want to sing over you."

"You won't; it'll just be seamless."

They tried it and it was good.

Quinn made another couple of suggestions and Rachel made a few more than that, and by the time they'd run through it for the twelfth time they were grinning at each other in satisfaction.

"Okay, now we should practice it with the dancing."

"We can't. Mike's not here."

"So? We can practice our steps," Rachel insisted. She wanted this to be perfect and she felt they were so close to it now but if they neglected the dancing it would prove to be a disappointment.

"How? We both dance with Mike and if he's not here . . ."

"We'll just take turns at leading." Rachel stepped closer to Quinn, arms out ready to dance.

Quinn took a step back. "I don't think so."

"What's wrong?"

"_What's right_? I'm not waltzing with you, Berry."

"It's not like we're going to be doing it in front of anyone else. It's just for practice."

"Many a church formal has taught me how to waltz, I don't need practice."

"Fine." Rachel dropped her arms to her sides, hoping her disappointment wasn't evident on her face. "Then I guess we're done for the day."

She shuffled the stack of papers together and slotted them back into her folder.

Quinn didn't leave immediately, instead taking her own sweet time to carefully fold the lyrics sheet and push it into her bag. "So, I think we have the song nailed at least."

"I agree. Although . . ." Rachel hesitated.

"Although what?"

She knew it was stupid, but she blurted it out anyway. "I think you being scared to dance with me in an empty auditorium speaks many of the volumes you've been accusing me of."

Quinn went from relaxed and almost friendly to tense and deadly in a blink. "Excuse me?"

Rachel quailed under her glare. "I just meant . . ."

"I know exactly what you meant. Listen hard, Manhands, because if I have to repeat myself it will be with my fist. I have been tolerating your little crush because . . ."

"I don't have a crush!"

Quinn continued to speak over her, ". . . because it's amusing – the fact that you _like _me when I've spent our entire existence together bullying you; it's kind of delicious – but never _ever _think this is a two-way street. Because if I ever did feel anything other than total loathing for you, I would _kill_ myself. Am I being clear?"

Rachel's head bobbed up and down. "Yes."

"Good, now go."

Rachel gathered the folder under her arm and grabbed her backpack. She was halfway to the door when she couldn't help but turn and say, "We still need to practice together tomorrow. At lunch."

Quinn stayed facing the piano. "I'll tell Mike."

Rachel nodded and left quickly then. Half of her wanted to be confused by Quinn's extreme reaction but the more aware half of her knew she'd been pushing for it. Not that reaction, obviously, but some reaction. And she'd received one, so she didn't have much room to complain.

She paused at the crossroads in the halls, looking down the one that led to the Gym. Even after only three days it felt natural to head to the girls locker room and grab a towel but thankfully logic and reason overruled instinct on this occasion. Quinn would not appreciate her washing a towel for her now. In fact, Quinn would probably prefer it if they never spoke again at this point.

Mind made up, Rachel nodded to herself and continued through the school to meet her Dad out the front.


	7. The One You Warned Me All About

****_Thanks for the lovely reviews :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six: <strong>

**The One You Warned Me All About . . .**

Quinn slowly blinked awake Friday morning and stretched out comfortably beneath her sheets and blanket and . . .

. . . six minutes after that she was throwing up.

As she stepped into the shower, tilting her head back and opening her mouth to wash out the foul taste, she knew it was going to be a bad day. For starters, she was still feeling sick despite having just emptied her stomach.

She stayed in the shower for a long time, and when she finally turned the water off she bypassed the towel waiting for her on the rack and instead walked back into her bedroom to grab the towel draped over her desk chair.

The scent was fading fast now but there was just about enough left to make her feel a little better as she breathed it in. Right now she hated the idea of needing anything from Rachel Berry – just what had she been trying to accuse her of yesterday, anyway? – but not enough to turn down the material comfort the girl offered. She couldn't actually wait to get to school and have this day old towel replaced with a fresh one.

Which did not translate in any way to her wanting to see Berry . . . she just really wanted her fabric softener.

* * *

><p>Rachel was sitting in first period History, head bent studiously over her textbook; although really she was jotting down extra notes for their performance that afternoon. She didn't have to be so stealthy – the lesson had yet to start and it wasn't like anyone ever sat in the empty space next to her – but the teacher was only a few feet in front and she didn't want to be caught breaking the rules.<p>

Talking of rules, she instantly broke one when the chair beside her was pulled out and someone sat down. To be fair though, she hadn't known who was planning to sit down when she'd looked up. Her startled expression quickly turned to one of pleasant surprise.

Quinn did not smile back. "Lose the puppy dog look. Do you have something for me?"

"Excuse . . . Oh!" It was obvious what Quinn was referring to. "I'm sorry, no."

"Is it in your locker?" Quinn asked impatiently.

"No, I didn't wash one this morning. I didn't think you'd want me to."

Quinn's face fell and then hardened. "_Bitch!"_ she muttered vehemently and then her chair was scraping back sharply as she stood and walked to her usual seat.

Mouth open in surprise, Rachel turned to stare after the cheerleader but when Santana sneered and gave her the finger she quickly turned back to the front. What the heck had that been about? Again Rachel worried for Quinn's mental health while at the same time wishing she hadn't talked herself out of grabbing a dirty towel the day before. But how was she to have known? It wasn't as if they had parted on the best of terms in the auditorium.

She was hurt by the harshness of Quinn's words but that paled in comparison to her concern. What was the big deal about the towels? Now she felt guilty for going against her instincts and she didn't like feeling guilty. It wasn't something she usually had to deal with; her single-mindedness in achieving her goals sort of made guilt a moot point, but, for some reason . . . she felt worse about not washing a towel for Quinn than she did about kissing the cheerleader's _boyfriend_ – it was all extremely confusing.

Once the lesson started she did her best to pay attention but her mind was too caught up in other thoughts and for once they weren't about herself. She had to get to the bottom of this.

* * *

><p>Second period for Quinn was Biology and thank God they weren't dissecting anything today. Mind you, the pictures they had to look at were disturbing enough – no girl should ever have to see what the inside of a boy's penis looked like, even if it was just a printed diagram.<p>

As Finn sat beside her, taking turns at giggling uncomfortably and making crass jokes with Puck, she cursed him and the damn nausea that just wouldn't abate today. For good measure she cursed Puck too; after all, it was all his fault anyway.

"Are you okay?" Finn asked quietly in a too rare moment of boyfriendly concern.

"I'm fine."

"You look a little green."

"I do not look green!"

"Well, not really green, just, you know, sick and stuff."

"It's called morning sickness, Finn," she whispered. "It's what happens when idiots like you get someone pregnant."

He cast his eyes to the desk, all humor gone. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize. Can I do anything to help?"

Great, now he was making her feel guilty. Or more guilty, whatever. "No, it'll pass."

"Are you sure? I can skip third and go get you a burger or something if that'll help?"

Quinn had to place her hands flat on the desk and breathe evenly so that she didn't throw up. "Are you stupid? Don't talk about greasy food."

"I'm sorry." He really sounded it. She hated that. "Something else? Anything else? I can, uh, hold your hair back if you need to, like, barf, if you want."

"I'm not going to barf!" she snapped, although that might not be true for long.

"Okay, sorry." His eyes were focused blankly on his textbook. "But if there's anything I can do . . .?"

She considered asking him to break into Rachel Berry's house to wash a towel for her but thought better of it. Not only did she not particularly want him being anywhere near Berry's home – Rachel might be into her more than him now, but she was still a little worried Finn was holding a candle for the freak and she wouldn't put it past Berry to accept his advances just to get back at her either – but also he'd probably blow up the washing machine or something and she just knew that would come back to bite her on the ass.

"No, you've already done _more_ than enough."

He gave her a doleful look. "You're always mad at me now," he whispered. "It's not like I meant to get us pregnant."

His use of the word 'us' touched her too much and made her feel even more unbelievably guilty, and so she responded the only way she could to keep it bay, with anger, "No, but you still did!"

He nodded and didn't say anything else. As she finally looked away from him she caught Puck's eye. He was frowning and when he noticed he had her attention he slowly shook his head.

She knew he hadn't heard their conversation because he was on the other side of the aisle and a desk ahead of them but he'd obviously realized the subject matter. She didn't feel guilty about _him_, because this really _was _all his fault, but the look he was giving her was pissing her off.

Giving him her best withering 'stay out of it' glare she stared at her textbook for the rest of the lesson. It didn't help her nausea but then she was starting to accept that nothing was going to today.

* * *

><p>Between periods she had to grab a book from her locker. Finn had walked her there but had to leave quickly for Shop Class on the other side of the school.<p>

So did Puck but that didn't stop him from cornering her. "You need to give my boy a break."

"That's none of your business," she snapped.

"Like Hell it ain't. Look, you chose him, which I am _not _down with, but if that's your choice then you've gotta cut him some slack."

Quinn finally pulled her head out of her locker. "Are you finally feeling guilty?"

"For screwing my best friend's girl? No. But for knocking her up, yeah a little. Personally I think we should come clean so you can be with me, but if you're gonna go ahead with this bullshit then you at least gotta treat the dude right."

"I do treat him alright. I'm just not feeling very well today."

Puck was instantly concerned. It made her feel sicker. "What's wrong? Is everything okay? Yunno, with the baby?"

"Everything's fine. This is normal, apparently."

"Morning sickness," he said knowingly, making her wonder for a second if he'd gotten any more girls pregnant. "I read about that."

"You _read _about it?"

"Sure, I'm not a complete loser. Soon as I found out about our kid I started doing research. Food can help, you know."

"Do not mention a burger!"

"I was gonna suggest a smoothie. They have, like, vitamins and shit in them right?"

Quinn stared at him. Puck wouldn't blow up the washing machine; he had the sense to just steal the fabric softener and then have his Mom wash the towel.

"I can go get you one if you want."

She could feel the onset of tears so she turned back to her locker, finally grabbing the book she needed. "No, that won't be necessary."

"I don't mind, there's a shop just a block away."

She steeled herself. "I said no!"

"Fine, be like that. But you're not doing yourself, or me, or Finn any favors right now." Puck pushed off of the lockers with a final parting shot, of,. "Sort your shit out, Fabray."

Head still buried, Quinn wiped a tear away, took a deep breath and stepped back. As she shut the small metal door she noticed Rachel standing at her own locker, trying and failing not to look.

She tried to muster a suitably cutting remark about eavesdropping but just didn't have it in her right now. Instead she wiped another stray tear from her cheek and walked away.

* * *

><p>Fourth period was Spanish and Quinn was comfortable not paying too much attention. Her Spanish was good and Mr. Schuester was a fairly easy-going teacher. Her mind unfortunately drifted to Finn and Puck and the baby, just like it always did when there was nothing to distract her from the . . . the <em>utter <em>mess she was in.

What if Puck was right? Maybe she should give him a chance. But it went against everything she believed to be right to do that. Puck might not be the worst guy in the world, but he was far from being the best too.

Finn _was _the best, at least on paper – he was kind and sweet and good-looking and popular. Plus she sort of loved him. No! She did love him. Maybe not when they'd started dating, but they'd been together nearly six months now. If that wasn't love, what was?

Yesterday's conversation with Rachel came back unbidden. She didn't know why but the annoying dwarf had really gotten under her skin with her childish jabbering about love at first sight.

She _hadn't_ fallen for Finn the second she'd seen him. In fact they'd been aware of each other in eighth grade and the first half of Freshman year without ever really speaking directly to one another, and then her Daddy had raised the ban on dating and suddenly she'd needed a boyfriend. She was already head cheerleader by then, leaving her no choice but to date the captain of the football team.

The fact that dating the most popular boy in school was more of a giant Fuck You to her former miserable life than the fulfillment of any childhood dreams was neither here nor there when, social-standing-wise, she didn't have much of a say in it anyway.

So she hadn't loved him when they started going out, but she did love him now – she was almost sure of it.

So Berry had been wrong; love at first sight didn't exist. And if Manhands had just left it there yesterday . . . but no, she just had to go and say other stuff, _worse _stuff, and now . . . and now, she could barely believe it, but thinking about Berry's views on _lust at first sight _was a better alternative to thinking about Finn's hurt face in Biology or Puck's quiet anger at her locker.

But . . . _lust at first sight_? Seriously? Was that like going weak at the knees and hot and shaky all over and stumbling over your words just because you'd met someone pretty? Um, handsome. It sounded more like a case of social anxiety to her. And the only time she'd ever felt like that was . . . _shit_!

Okay, that had just been first day of school nerves, everyone got those, right? Especially when partnered with someone who wouldn't shut up for five seconds and kept asking personal questions about you. And Quinn had been a whole new person then and she hadn't really gotten to know herself yet which had made answering even the simplest of those question difficult.

She had to think about this from a different angle, because this one was about to make her stick her pen far enough up her nose to kill her brain.

_Lust_. Just thinking about the concept of it brought warmth to her cheeks. It's not like she didn't believe in lust, of course she did, the bible had all sort of warnings about it, but it wasn't _right_. You weren't _supposed_ to feel it, at least not until you were married. Even then it was an iffy subject.

It was a sin, like gluttony – which she could definitely not be accused of (anymore) – and pride – which okay she _could_ be accused of. Lust wasn't something she had any experience of though (because that had been _nerves_, dammit, and she'd go to her grave swearing that). Maybe she'd felt just a tiny bit with Puck. Although mostly that night the three wine coolers she'd consumed on an empty stomach had just made her more curious and less sensible than usual; add to that she had been having a bad day . . .

'_Talk about your bad days_,_'_ she thought as she bit her lip against yet another wave of nausea.

A message came over the PA system while she was still willing her stomach to behave. "_Cheerios, assemble!" _and at the front of the class Mr. Schuester sighed audibly but waved towards the door. When Coach Sylvester barked through the intercom like that none of the teachers bothered to try and fight it.

Quinn was so happy for the distraction that she leapt out of her seat, grabbing her bag and rushing to the door with a few other cheerleaders.

"What's this about?" Brittany asked, easily running beside her. "Did we do something wrong?"

"Probably."

"How's Manhands?"

Quinn's steps faltered, she nearly tripped! "What? I don't know. Why?"

"You've been talking to her a lot. Are we friends with her now?"

"We've only been talking because of the stupid Glee assignment; and _no!_"

"Okay, well will you tell me when we are? I don't want to be rude by accident."

Quinn slowed as she approached the door to the gym. "We're not going to _be _friends with her."

Brittany didn't respond because she was making her way over to her position in the squad and Quinn suppressed the urge call after her and reiterate her statement.

Ten minutes later she fell from the top of the pyramid.

It totally wasn't her fault; the girl beneath her lost her balance and stooped low to grab the shoulder under her foot. While she'd managed to save herself, Quinn had no such luck and landed on the hard floor on her hands and knees. While she was congratulating herself on not killing herself, or _anything _else, the coach had other ideas.

"What happened, Fabray? A little turbulence and you quake? If you're that inept at being my crowning jewel maybe I should offer the gig elsewhere."

"I'm fine, Coach Sylvester." Quinn slowly stood up. "I just haven't had time for my protein shake yet today."

"This is unacceptable. If regular classes are taking you away from your shakes maybe I should have them all cancelled."

Quinn wasn't going to argue.

"But that's no excuse for today!" Coach barked. "Get back to the top of that pyramid."

Quinn sighed. Her knees were hurting and the palms of her hands were stinging but she shook it off and ran into a lift so that Ricky could swing her up to her place at the pinnacle. Arms out to the sides, her over-bright smile hid all of her pain and fear and anger but it would be a miracle if it could stop her from throwing up all over the Cheerios below her too.

* * *

><p>Luckily Quinn believed in miracles and, perhaps as a reward for it, God helped her keep her stomach in check until the lunch bell rang. She did have to make a run for the nearest bathroom immediately after though.<p>

When she emerged five minutes later, feeling shaky and still perspiring under her uniform, someone was waiting for her. It wasn't anyone she was in the mood to see.

"I've been looking for you."

"I thought I told you not to do that."

Rachel hugged her folder tighter to her chest. "We're supposed to be practicing."

"I need to eat first."

"You can eat after."

"I need to eat first," Quinn spelled out slowly. God, what was her problem? Couldn't she just leave her alone? She turned to walk towards the cafeteria but stopped when she noticed Rachel was trotting beside her. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I was . . . I thought we could discuss the new notes I've made while you eat. It would save time because at least then when you finally make it to the auditorium we can get right to the . . ."

"In what universe am I going to let you sit with me at lunch, Berry?"

Rachel was silent, probably trying to decide if the question was rhetorical. "I just thought . . ."

"Do us both a favor: _Stop_ thinking about me."

'_Please!'_

* * *

><p>Rachel laughed as Mike pirouetted around her so fast she felt dizzy. He was such a quick learner. She'd only shown him the ballet steps once and he had mastered it, improvised with it and already made it his own.<p>

His natural talent pleased her, being equal to her own but not in competition with it. Plus they would make a dashing couple at after show parties, with his boyish good looks and her own quirky, understated beauty, she thought idly, and then slightly less idly she wondered if he was single.

"I didn't realize we were turning this into a ballet."

The unexpected voice startled her and she turned to see Quinn striding across the stage. She looked _slightly _healthier than when Rachel had seen her in the hall. Stopping a few feet from them, apparently waiting for an answer, she sipped from her Cheerio's water bottle.

"We're not, but we had given up on you ever joining us and decided to have some fun instead."

Quinn sighed, "It's only been ten minutes."

"Which is ten minutes of rehearsal time we'll never get back!"

"So stop wasting more of it and let's rehearse!"

Quinn's temper was even shorter than usual today. Rachel added it to her mental list of the cheerleader's recent odd behavior as she called for Brad to start playing his piano. Increased anger management issues; sickly pallor; an uncharacteristic need for multiple bathroom breaks; crying after talking to Noah Puckerman; being _friendly_ with her, _Rachel Berry_, and possibly . . . _possibly_ . . . even flirting with her? She wasn't really sure about that because the only proof that any flirting had indeed taken place was her own reaction to it and without prior experience she couldn't consider such evidence as completely reliable. And then there was the inexplicable towel obsession, which was perhaps the weirdest weird thing of them all.

She ran through the list again as Quinn sang her verse, but no matter how much she thought about it she couldn't see how it all added up to one specific malady. She'd have to go on that night to see if the website could shed any light on it.

They ran through the song together once before Rachel decided it was time to try it with the dancing again. She'd already given her new notes to Mike and now she handed a copy to Quinn.

"If I see anywhere on here that you and I are dancing together now I'm going home sick before Glee," she snapped before she'd even so much as looked at the page.

Rachel went red and glanced at Mike, but he just smiled in a confused way at her outburst. "Of course there's nothing like that. I just switched the count a little to go with what we decided after school yesterday. You make it sound like I actually want to dance with you." Quinn gave her a cold smirk. "Which I do not. Besides, I know you have problems keeping in time and I wouldn't want to suggest anything that might make that even harder for you."

The smirk turned into a glare but, with effort, Rachel kept a passive, ever-helpful smile on her face.

"So if we could just try it," she began, signalling for Brad again.

"Give me a minute." Quinn held the paper close to her face as she read the changes.

Rachel frowned; was Quinn short-sighted? She'd never seen her wear glasses or heard her complain about a contact popping out. Perhaps this was another symptom. She added 'deteriorating eyesight' to her list but then completely forgot about it because . . . had Quinn just _sniffed_ the piece of paper?

Rachel's eyes went wide and she glanced at Mike again, convinced the evidence would be written all over his face, but he didn't seem to have noticed anything odd. Mentally scribbling out 'deteriorating eyesight' she wrote in 'compulsion to sniff things'.

"Okay, I'm ready."

Rachel nodded, still distracted by her thoughts as they took their places. She took one look around Mike to see Quinn holding her stomach and breathing in an exaggeratedly even manner before forcing herself to focus as Brad played the intro.

They ran through the full performance once. It was good, but not perfect so Rachel insisted they did it again. Halfway through the fifth run through, during Quinn and Mike's second waltz, Quinn stopped abruptly and pushed Mike away from her.

"Did I step on your foot?" he apologized, although Rachel couldn't imagine him being so clumsy.

"No, I just can't do this anymore."

"It's one song and we never even stand next to each other!" Rachel snapped. Surely if she could push aside her own feelings for the sake of the performance then Quinn could put aside her dislike of her for the same amount of time.

"I don't care!"

Quinn was holding her stomach with both hands now and her breathing was ragged. Rachel assumed it was only from the singing and dancing until Quinn threw a hand over her mouth and sprinted from the auditorium.

"I think she's sick," Mike muttered.

"And I think she's more of a drama queen than people think_ I_ am," Rachel muttered back, totally bemused by Quinn's behavior. Hadn't she ever heard the saying: The show must go on?

"You should probably check on her."

"I think she would probably prefer it if you did."

"I can't go into the girl's bathroom!" he hissed, looking around as if someone had just accused him of doing just that.

"Okay, fine." Rachel nodded. "I guess that means we're done for now. You were really good though, I can't wait for us to perform it later."

Mike grinned, "See you after school."

Rachel wanted to walk sedately, like she didn't really care, but found herself rushing from the auditorium anyway. The closest bathroom was just around the corner and she took a deep, bolstering breath before entering. She didn't know why though because it was probably empty. Quinn was most likely back in the cafeteria with Finn and her friends, telling them all how she just couldn't stand one more second in Rachel's presence.

She pushed the door open and stood just inside. It looked empty, but she knew right away Quinn wasn't laughing at her in the lunchroom. She'd never heard the cheerleader cry, so no clues from that, but the whispered, "Stop, stop, please, God, make it stop," was definitely all Quinn.

"You know, talking about it might help," she said, loud and clear and it seemed to echo around the tiled room.

There was a gasp and then a muffled sob. "Go away!"

She ignored the instruction and slowly walked down the line of cubicles. "I know we're not friends or anything, but you can talk to me if you like."

"Seriously, Chewbacca, get out of here!"

"I think taking my delimitative stature into account, Chewbacca is hardly a cutting insult."

"Fine, Dwarf; fuck off!"

Rachel stopped beside the second to last cubicle, literally shocked into standing still by Quinn's curse. It wasn't like she didn't know such language, she'd been surrounded by it since middle school, and her Dads had become much more lenient about what movies she was allowed to watch since she'd turned fifteen, but she'd never heard Quinn swear like that. It was almost as shocking as hearing her cry.

She stepped to the last stall, Quinn was kneeling and had obviously been in too much of a hurry to get down there to close the door. As Rachel opened her mouth to speak, the other girl gave a strangled grunt and vomited harshly into the toilet bowl.

Acting on pure instinct at seeing the girl so ill, Rachel rushed into the cubicle with her, dropping to her own knees so that she could rub her back.

"Stop touching . . . !" Quinn was sick again.

Rachel rubbed her back until she'd finished retching. "As I don't believe your hate of me would be enough to make you physically sick, I'm going to respectfully decline your insistence on being alone."

"Get . . ." Quinn was sick again. "Oh God, why can't I stop!"

"Are you asking God specifically, or me?"

There was a low gurgle that sounded suspiciously like a weak chuckle before Quinn had to duck her head back to the toilet as the retching started again. Thankfully nothing came up this time.

"If you insist on staying, you could at least hold my hair back!" Quinn snapped.

"Oh." Rachel went to do just that. "Um, it's already in a ponytail."

Quinn snorted, and then was sick again. "It won't stop," she whispered pitifully between gulps of the now fetid air. "It usually stops."

"I see." Rachel was rubbing her back again but her mind was racing through her list of symptoms. It all made sense now. "How long have you been bulimic?"

Quinn turned sharply and vomit-scented breath rushed against Rachel's face as she snapped, "I am not a freaking bulimic!"

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to jump to an assumption. Then what _is_ wrong? Do you have a drinking problem?"

Quinn's mouth opened to deliver a cutting reply but no words came out. Instead she was looking at Rachel properly for the first time, or more to the point at Rachel's clothes. She waited for the insult on her dress sense to come, knowing it wouldn't even hurt if it made Quinn feel better. It was pathetic, probably, but she didn't care, she just wanted to ease the distress in Quinn's eyes.

"Give me your arm."

"Excuse me?" Did she expect her to cut it off at the shoulder or something? Because while she did want to make Quinn feel better she wasn't going to dismember herself to do it. At least, she thought, not without a please.

"Your arm!"

Quinn grabbed her right arm without waiting for a yes or no and Rachel panicked, even more so when the cheerleader held it up to her mouth.

"There's toilet paper right there," she squeaked, nodding at the dispenser.

Quinn didn't answer, she was too busy sniffing Rachel's arm and Rachel had the sudden realization that Quinn was a cannibal and obviously all of the previous sniffing of her stuff was just an appetizer for when she finally got her alone. Why had she come into this bathroom? Why had she tried to befriend Quinn? She should have stayed away at all of costs. If only she had known! Now she was going to die, eaten by Quinn Fabray in her mentally reduced state! And a small voice, surfing the wave of panic and sounding more like Noah Puckerman than herself, said, "But what a way to go!"

Quinn had been sniffing from an inch away but, apparently liking the sweet, tender scent of her, now pressed her nose hard to the sleeve of her sweater and breathed in deeply.

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut. "Please don't bite me!"

"You're not going to get _that_ lucky." The words came out extremely muffled as Quinn took another deep lungful of her sleeve.

After the third inhale with no chunks of flesh being ripped from her arm, Rachel relaxed – a very little bit. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Again the words were muffled.

Rachel thought about it but remained bewildered as she watched Quinn breathe in her sleeve. "I really don't know."

"You're damn fabric softener is the only thing that stops it and don't think I'm happy about that."

"Oh." That only answered one of a dozen questions though. "Stops what?"

"Don't push it, Berry."

Rachel frowned, not sure what _she _had pushed, but then Quinn _pushing_ her nose higher up, into the crook of her elbow, diffused her train of thought.

"Is there anything else I can do?"

"No, just stay still." Quinn was quiet for a moment but then Rachel heard another sob. "Damn, I hate you!"

"And yet you are still . . ."

Another sob. "Please just shut up."

Rachel did so but a disturbance came from another quarter, by the door. "Q, you in here?"

Quinn's reaction was a blur as she pulled on Rachel's arm, drawing her even further into the stall, before slamming the door closed and engaging the lock. She held a finger to Rachel's lips as she mouthed, "_Santana._"

Rachel had already figured that out and was too busy wondering what damage had been done to her kidneys after impacting with the toilet roll dispenser to mouth a reply.

"Yes, I'm in here," Quinn's voice was frail and she looked at the toilet, gulped and then grabbed Rachel's left arm. She was hardly surprised this time when Quinn gave it a big sniff, but she was still very much confused.

"Why? Fifth period started already. What's up?"

"I'm okay."

"Find that hard to believe. Mike said you freaked out earlier and Berry came after you. Weirdly enough she ain't in class either." Santana chuckled. "What did you do to her? I bet it was good. Come on out so we can celebrate."

"I didn't do anything to her."

"Shit, I knew you'd gone soft." Footsteps echoed off the tiles. "And you keep talking to her. What's that about?"

"We're just working on a Glee assignment together. As soon as it's over this afternoon I won't be speaking to her again, trust me."

Pain and indignation bloomed in Rachel's chest and she mouthed tetchily, "Unless you want to sniff me again!"

Quinn sent her a pleading look, which _was_ enough to mollify her even if it did feel wrong.

"Yeah, right," Santana laughed. "You're acting too weird lately for me to believe that. Are you coming out or not?"

"Um, I can't at the moment."

"Dude!" Santana laughed again. "You're totally having a nooner in there with her right now aren't you?"

It only took Quinn's hazel eyes going all big and scared for Rachel to shut down the toilet lid without a sound and hop gracefully onto it. She sat indian-style so there was no chance of her feet being seen under the door.

Quinn shot her a grateful look before forcefully saying, "Actually I'm just throwing up; but thanks for making me feel even _more_ barfy."

"_Hey!"_ Rachel mouthed furiously, and then nearly fell off the side of the toilet when Quinn surged forward and pressed her nose to her stomach. It certainly caused all fury to leave in an instant and she hoped her gulp hadn't carried beyond the stall.

Santana's voice came as close to concern as it ever did. "Why, what's up?"

"Bad lasagna," Quinn said, her voice muted by Rachel's sweatshirt. "My Mom was sick all night. Thought I'd escaped it, but apparently not."

"Think you need to see the nurse for a shot or something?"

Quinn finally raised her head again, looking straight up at her. "Yes, I'm definitely thinking I should seek medical attention."

Rachel stuck her tongue out and Quinn actually smiled, sort of at least, before burying her head back in Rachel's stomach.

"Okay, well I'll see you after school. And just so you know, we're gonna wipe the floor with you and Berry at the competition."

A hand silently slapped over her mouth before she could refute that statement and issue a challenge of her own. Not until the main door opened and closed did Quinn take her hand away and even then she held a finger to her lips while she quietly unlocked the door and checked outside.

Rachel was surprised when she relocked it and knelt back down. "Do you need to be sick again?" she asked, ready to jump out of the way.

"No, just . . ." Quinn again pushed her face against her stomach before breathing in deeply.

Rachel tried not to stiffen up too much, or do anything else inappropriate. "Can you please tell me what's going on?"

"No," Quinn said softly.

"Well, then can I at least guess?" Rachel's hand drifted up accidentally to ghost over Quinn's hair – it just seemed natural in this position – Quinn flinched but didn't pull away.

"I suppose."

Rachel thought hard about her list of symptoms. She'd already ruled out eating disorders and binge drinking. What else did that leave? Crying, short temper, bathroom breaks, sickness . . .

She had a flash of inspiration but quashed it because of who she was talking about. It just wasn't possible for someone as so in control of her destiny as Quinn Fabray. She had to ask though, if only to eliminate another reason.

"Quinn," she whispered, braced for the yelling that would surely follow. "Are you . . . _pregnant_?"

* * *

><p>Quinn peeled her face from Rachel's sweater, and even that was hard enough to do, but meeting her eyes with any kind of denial was actually impossible. She managed to shake her head but it was too late and from the gaping shock on Rachel's face was totally unbelieved anyway.<p>

She felt tears rushing to her eyes again and did the only thing she could think of to stop them. She drove her face into Rachel's stomach once more. The smell of the fabric softener was even more comforting now than just the towels had been. It was probably best not to dwell on why. She rubbed her forehead against it, nose nuzzling the material.

"Is that a no?" Rachel murmured, like she really didn't want to believe the truth any more that Quinn did.

"What do you think?" Tears fell, she couldn't stop them now, and her breath hitched as she begged, "Please don't tell anyone."

Rachel's arms went around her shoulders, holding her tight.

Quinn tensed up; the embrace, the small stall, her thoughts, her _life_ all aggravating her claustrophobia a little. And though she knew she shouldn't be encouraging this kind – or any kind – of contact between them, she just didn't have the strength right now to pretend it wasn't helping.

* * *

><p>An hour and half later they took their place on stage. Rachel and Quinn refused to look at each other as they stood either side of Mike, the three of them holding hands while they waited for the music to start, but his stage fright was so severe that he barely noticed.<p>

As soon as they started singing, _everything_ changed and they couldn't stop looking at each other as they took turns at leading the vocals, each feeding off of the determination in the other's eyes. Mike grinned to himself, as he danced first Quinn around Rachel and then Rachel around Quinn, just happy that they were pulling it off despite how weird all of their rehearsals had been.

Actually, he thought, as his dance came to an end and both girls hit the final note perfectly together, pulling it off was an understatement – they'd _killed_ it!

* * *

><p>After everyone else had performed and a winner declared, Glee was over for the day, but Mr. Schuester collared Quinn in the auditorium to give her the Spanish homework she'd missed by leaving the lesson early. Which was why, ten minutes later, she walked into what she'd assumed would be an empty Choir room to collect her things and ended up alone with Rachel Berry . . . <em>again.<em>

"Okay, this stalking? It's getting old."

"I was here first." Rachel frowned but Quinn knew she wouldn't stay like that long. She almost did a mental countdown but decided it would be too freaky if she knew the girl well enough for that. "Quinn, we won! I mean, I know there was little doubt that we would, but I have to admit the combination of Noah Puckerman, Artie and Mercedes was really very strong, offering harsher competition than I'd anticipated, but don't you think that just makes the fact that we won so much more satisfying?"

Quinn acted as if she was barely listening to her heartfelt speech as she grabbed her bag; she didn't want to be listening to it. Sure winning was nice, it was way better than losing, but it was a silly singing competition and not anything that mattered.

"You know there wasn't actually a prize, right?"

"Winning is its own reward. Besides, we get to pick the next assignment and that's a prize."

"Fair enough." Backpack in hand, Quinn finally spared her a glance. "So can my contribution to that be that _we_ don't get paired together next time?"

Rachel's face fell. "I thought that now . . ."

"Nothing has changed. I still don't want you looking at me, talking to me or . . . or touching me ever. The only difference now is that you're safe. I know a humiliating secret about you and you know one about me. Congratulations, I can't say anything about you now even if I wanted to. But if you breathe one word of what you know . . ." Quinn took a step forward and Rachel took one back. " . . . I will ruin your entire life and I'm not just talking about high school – I mean your _entire_ life."

Rachel looked more hurt than scared. "I would never say anything."

"Then you have nothing to worry about." Turning smartly on her heel, Quinn walked from the Choir room, tossing her bag over her shoulder as she left. "And bring me a _damn_ towel on Monday."

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading. More soon.<em>


	8. Long Road to Ruin There in Your Eyes

******Chapter Seven:**

**Long Road to Ruin There in Your Eyes**

Rachel was called to see Principal Figgins' secretary Monday morning halfway through second period. It was always worrying to receive such a note but at least it excused her from Chemistry. She'd never quite recovered from the time Santana had tried to set the sleeve of her barn owl sweater alight with a Bunsen burner.

The meeting turned out to be nothing important, simply a concern about her dietary form required for the upcoming Mock United Nations Club trip. After explaining to the secretary that vegan was not a 'ridiculously expensive ethnic food' and nor was it acceptable for them to expect her to eat Sloppy Joes every day with the rest of the students just because the school refused to hire a decent nutritionist, and that perhaps if the lunch lady actually bothered to look the term vegan up and give it a go there wouldn't be so many students bordering on morbidly obese at this school, and perhaps . . .

She could have gone on but Secretary Donna holding up her form and ripping it calmly into six uneven pieces took the wind out of her sails. It seemed like an over-reaction to what had only been her desire to educate and inform, and one would have thought that in a building designed for teaching the woman behind the desk would have been happy to learn something new, but . . . never mind.

Rachel let it go with an indignant sniff, "It's just as well you're removing me from the trip, you know. It would only have interfered with my strict training regime for Sectionals anyway."

"So everyone's a winner," Secretary Donna drawled as she made a shooing motion with her hand.

Rachel left the Principal's suite of offices, clutching her folders a little closer to her chest as she told herself it _was _a good thing, her words hadn't been a lie. Glee Club was far more important than Mock United Nations, because it wasn't like she wanted to be the President when she grew up. Although it would have looked good on her resume in preparation for when she became a goodwill ambassador for the real UN.

She was still grumbling under her breath about irrational and probably menopausal administrative staff when she came around the corner to see Quinn kneeling before her open locker. She stopped dead, a fleeting '_Can I get by without her seeing me?' _running through her head before she could stop it.

That thought was a throwback to a simpler time however, when avoiding Quinn Fabray had been what she _wanted_ to do. Unlike now, when it was the exact opposite. She'd spent the entire weekend thinking about what had happened on Friday afternoon – about discovering Quinn's secret and about the way Quinn's face had felt pressed to various parts of her sweater, and maybe about one more than the other if she was being entirely honest with herself – and the conclusion all of her serious thinking had led her to was . . . _this_ was her way in!

Nobody _else_ knew, meaning this secret was all hers – well, and Quinn's obviously – but that was kind of the point. It gave them something in common, something to bond over and, because being sixteen and pregnant was bound to be an extremely harrowing experience, the perfect reason for Rachel to reach out and make a mark on Quinn's life.

And obviously Quinn would get something out of it too; she'd get Rachel Berry as a best friend to see her through said harrowing experience, and honestly, who could ask for a better life coach than her? She was incredibly optimistic, motivated beyond measure to succeed and more than willing to put in the hours needed to pay her dues and earn her rewards – which, in this instance, was Quinn Fabray (as a friend!)

It was with this in mind that she had come to school this morning prepared and this was so much better than waiting for an opportunity to sneak into the bathroom after her.

After checking both ways just to make sure they were completely alone, Rachel swiftly approached the cheerleader. Quinn was tying her shoelace and didn't look up even though she must have been able to see her feet coming towards her and stopping just inches away.

"Hello, Quinn, how are you feeling today?"

"Are you talking to me? I thought I'd warned you about that."

Rachel sighed but was unperturbed; she was learning to realize Quinn's bark was far more ferocious than her bite. "I apologize for breaking the rules but as I have already done so now, would you mind answering the question to put my mind at ease, please?"

"I'm feeling fine, why wouldn't I be?" Quinn growled, not raising her eyes from the toe of her tennis shoe. "And what does it have to do with you anyway?"

"You can't do something this huge alone, Quinn!" Rachel's voice was little more than a whisper but she knew it was forceful enough to get her point across when Quinn's eyes jerked up to meet hers. "And you shouldn't have to."

"I'm _not_ alone, Hobbit, and even if I was it would still be preferable to _you_ helping me."

Rachel swallowed thickly but she'd been expecting some level of resistance. "I thought you might say that, which is why I decided it would be more comfortable for both of us if I were to utilize a third party for this."

"Third party?" She'd never seen Quinn look scared before and the vulnerability that suddenly pooled in her wide hazel eyes made Rachel's breath catch. "Who did you tell?"

"Nobody! I just bought you this." Rachel looked both ways again before sliding the magazine she'd purchased out of her bag. "It has a four page article on ways to relieve morning sick-"

The next few seconds passed so fast it disorientated her but Rachel doubted that she'd ever forget the sight of Quinn Fabray rising up out of her starter's crouch and into her face. Or the feel of a firm hand twisting into her sweater, fingers brushing her breasts before the material was pulled painfully tight over them as she was swung around. Or the sound as her back hit the metal of the locker beside Quinn's, the clang of it in her ears almost as painful as the impact itself.

She felt the magazine yanked from her hands and Quinn's hot breath rush against her face with a strangled whisper of "Are you freaking nuts bringing this to school!" before she was smacked upside the head with a rolled copy of Pregnancy Monthly.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Rachel chanted, cringing rather than trying to defend herself. "I just thought it might help."

"Help?" Quinn hissed, still holding her hard against the locker. "How would it have helped if someone had seen you give it to me? I'd have been screwed, Manhands! And you know what happens when I get screwed?"

"You get pregnant?"

It was out of her mouth before she could stop it and she was pretty sure that when Quinn smacked her with the magazine again it gave her a concussion. How else could she explain the smirk she saw on Quinn's face? Maybe Quinn just really enjoyed hitting her with things.

"No, when I get screwed, _you_ get screwed . . ." Rachel really did try to bite her lip against her own smirk. "Not like that, you sick freak. God, I should make you eat every page of this damn magazine for being so freaking gross and . . . stupid."

Instead Quinn threw it in her locker, arranged some books over it and then slammed the door shut, all with her left hand because her right was still pinning Rachel. Her grip had relaxed somewhat though and more so as she took a shallow breath and her left hand pressed to her stomach just for a moment.

"Are you going to be sick?"

Quinn didn't respond, she just breathed evenly and her glassy gaze seemed to fix on the shoulder of Rachel's sweater.

She flashed back to Friday, Quinn's nose trailing delicately up the inside of her arm, and it made her feel a little warm and almost . . . dizzy, in a way she wasn't altogether comfortable with but wouldn't walk away from even if she had that liberty right now.

There was the fact that they were in the halls and second period would be ending in about ten minutes still to consider, though.

"If you're going to start sniffing me again, maybe we should go somewhere more private."

Quinn's lips twitched upwards and she took long enough to answer that she _had_ to be considering it. Rachel held her breath while she waited.

"I'm not going into the Janitor's closet with you, Berry."

"Well, no, I'd hope that we both have a little more class than that." Despite her pompous tone, Rachel was smiling and she melted, totally, when Quinn gave in and smiled back. "I was going to suggest under the bleachers."

Quinn chuckled and groaned at the same time. "That's an even _bigger _cliché."

Rachel shrugged, smiling still, and the way Quinn was pressing her into the lockers with that hand in the centre of her chest suddenly felt a lot less threatening than it had before and more like something . . . entirely different.

Quinn seemed to notice it at the same time and straightened slightly, fist flexing around the material of her sweater. "Anyway, I don't care if you book a room at the Carlton Grand for third period, there will be no sniffing. I'd rather puke my guts up."

"Well, that's up to you. Personally I think it's silly to be physically sick when the cure is right in front of you, but that's your call."

And playtime was officially over. Quinn leaned in threateningly again. "You are _not_ my cure. You are nothing."

Rachel forced her face to remain impassive while she buried the pain of that comment and then she nodded, ready to try and push away from the taller girl. She'd done what she came over to do and she had to remember that Rome hadn't been built in a day. It wasn't really in her nature to take things slow but she was smart enough to see that a lot of little baby steps would get her further than just trying to batter down Quinn's defenses with her usual blunt force.

She was allowed to stand up straight but Quinn stopped her from getting away, "So, do you have my towel? Is it in your locker?"

"I thought you didn't want my help?"

"Rachel!"

The hiss of her name on Quinn's lips sounded so desperate that she gave in immediately and shook her head. "I didn't bring you a towel today."

"What?"

Rachel's back quickly met the lockers again but it seemed to be more accidental than violently motivated, caused by distress rather than anger. Not that that was going to keep her shoulder blades from bruising.

"Well, I know you're trying to keep this . . . thing . . . to yourself right now and, seriously Quinn, stooping under desks to inhale a towel or . . . or wearing one around your neck at lunch like some kind of prize fighter isn't the best way to go about that. I mean, if even _I_ think you're acting strange, imagine what everyone else is thinking."

Quinn's eyes cut to the side, staring at a band sticker on the locker door beside Rachel's head. "I know, but – and you so have _no idea_ how much I hate admitting this – your stupid towels are the only thing stopping the . . . the . . . it."

"But that's just the thing, it's not the towels, it's what the towels are washed in. That's why sniffing my sleeve and, uh, my, um, stomach helped the other day."

Quinn was blushing lightly, "I am not wearing your clothes."

Rachel grinned because that thought hadn't even occurred to her. And while, yes, Quinn was _insulting _her, the way her nose was scrunching up like that but without the usual sneer accompanying it, it was really . . . cute.

"Well, no, that wouldn't really stop people from thinking you were acting strange, but I have something better."

"What?"

Rachel nodded her head to the side, to where she'd dropped her bag as she was swung around. "May I?"

Quinn nodded as she released the grip on her sweater; she even went one better and bent to get the bag for her, holding it up so that Rachel could reach inside. After pulling a long, slim rectangular package out, she took the bag from her and handed over the box.

Staring at it, Quinn seemed to take a minute to work out what she was looking at. "Handkerchiefs?"

Rachel launched into her explanation. "Yes, five. In baby colors . . . not because, um . . . let's call them pastel colors instead. That's one for each day of the school week and you can coordinate with your outfit too so that . . ." Rachel looked down at the Cheerio's uniform, but only for a split second; she wasn't going to get accused of checking the cheerleader out again. ". . . maybe I should have just gotten red and white actually."

"Forget the colors, I like the colors, I'm just not quite sure how these are supposed to help with my . . . you know?"

"Open the box." Quinn did so and it must have clicked because a faint smile already graced her lips. "Sniff one." Quinn was a step ahead of her now and the smile was stronger.

"I washed them all," Rachel said, beaming proudly, "so now if you start to feel nauseous you can inhale one of these to your heart's content, wherever you are, and people will just think you have a cold or allergies or something."

Waiting for a response was killing her. Quinn already had one of the handkerchiefs out – the yellow one – and was holding it to her nose but she had yet to say anything.

"Is it as good as the towel?" she asked nervously, feeling suddenly shy.

"Yes." Quinn took one really big sniff before tucking the handkerchief underneath the side of her Cheerio's top; keeping it within easy reach. Rachel's feeling of shyness increased tenfold when their eyes met again and slowly, that rare equally-shy smile of Quinn's lit up her face. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she murmured, scared that if she spoke too loud she would scare that smile away.

The bell took care of it for her, ringing loudly across the corridor and making them both jump. Instantly, it seemed, because they hadn't had time to move away from each other yet, the halls were filled with students and when Rachel saw two in particular over Quinn's shoulder coming straight towards them, her eyes widened anxiously.

Quinn never turned around but maybe she recognized the pop of Brittany's gum or could hear Santana's sneer from six feet away because she tensed as much as Rachel did, although she also relaxed a lot quicker.

"Give them to me later," she whispered, sliding the box back into her bag. Then her hand was balled in Rachel's sweater once more and she was leaning in with a vicious snarl. Raising her voice to carry down the halls, she added, "And stay away from my boyfriend, you pathetic freak!"

Quinn released her, hands out to the sides as she stepped back, like she couldn't believe she'd lowered herself enough to touch Rachel Berry even to threaten her. Rachel studied her expression for a moment, but if it was all an act she was an even better actress than her.

As soon as Santana started laughing at her, offering Quinn a high five, Rachel ducked her head and ran away.

* * *

><p>Quinn laughed but she didn't watch Berry scamper off like the other two did and she pretended not to see Santana's raised hand too. Shouldering her book bag she set off towards class, Brittany and Santana flanking her automatically.<p>

"So what did she do?" Santana asked, eager for more ammo.

"Yeah, and I thought you didn't mind that she likes Finn?"

"I don't, she doesn't stand a chance with him anyway, but she seems to have gotten it into her thick head that hanging around me will make him notice her," Quinn lied easily.

Berry wouldn't get it but she was actually doing her a favor. If Santana and Brittany believed her they wouldn't get suspicious of the girl's true intentions. Or the fact that for some reason Quinn was willingly accepting her help.

Okay, she knew the reason, and as a wave of nausea struck she pulled the yellow handkerchief from beneath her top and pretended to wipe her nose. It soothed her but the lemony scent wasn't as strong on the thin cotton as it had been on the towels. It would fade more quickly. She'd have to catch Berry alone later to make sure she got the rest of them.

True to her recent luck the chance never came up. All of the classes they shared that day either Santana or Brittany were also in and she couldn't risk being seen willingly talking to Rachel after the performance she'd put on that morning. She'd left her lunch table early to check the choir room and auditorium but for once the girl hadn't been skulking in either place. Quinn had even hovered in the bathroom by their lockers between fifth and sixth period, pretending to redo her make-up in the hope that Berry would magically find her there again. She didn't and after five minutes Quinn started to feel pathetic and left, mentally berating Berry for making her late for class.

Even Glee was a bust, while Quinn was coming up with a valid excuse for sticking around a few minutes afterwards Rachel got into an argument with Mr. Schuester about Mercedes getting _her _solo and stormed out after ten minutes. Everyone else complained about what an ass Rachel was but Quinn just wanted to slap Mercedes for making her leave.

She was fuming about so many things by the time Mr. Schue dismissed them for the day, and that in turn was making her feel even sicker than usual. She just wanted to go home and lay on her bed with the hanky over her face; maybe if she wet it it would make the smell of the softener come back? But Finn followed her to her locker asking if they could hang out for a few hours.

"Who with?"

"Just us two."

"Oh," she didn't mean to say it like that and she didn't mean to grimace either. It wasn't that she didn't like the idea of spending a few hours with her boyfriend, it was just that she really wasn't feeling up to him constantly wanting to make out right now. "I don't know."

He sounded a little offended but quickly offered, "Or we could see if the guys want to go to Breadstix for an early dinner. I know Brittany said she and Santana had to babysit this afternoon but I bet Puck would be up for it and we could ask Mercedes and Tina maybe?"

She knew he was trying to be nice, trying to spend time with her in a way she was comfortable with as she clearly didn't seem to want to be alone with him, but she snapped anyway,

"I don't want to hang out with _them_!"

"Okay," he said slowly, straightening up. "Is there anyone you do want to hang out with? I could ask them instead."

His question had started off snide but finished as a plea. As she opened her locker for her books and the pregnancy magazine Berry had given her – it didn't matter if Finn saw it, she could just say she bought it herself – she had an idea, a really bad idea.

"Do you have Rachel's number?"

"What?" He straightened up even more and took a step back, chuckling. "No, w-why would I have Rachel's number?"

"It was just a question, Finn," she turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "So why the guilty stuttering?"

"That wasn't guilty stuttering, it was surprised stuttering," he said, still sounding guilty. "Why would you want to hang out with Rachel?"

"I never said I did," she covered sharply and turned back to her locker.

There was a folded piece of paper on top of her books that she didn't remember putting in there. It must have been pushed through the top of the door. Within the privacy of the metal box she used her thumb to flip it open. It wasn't signed but she knew the handwriting now.

_I left them behind your right front tire. Don't thank me because I'm not talking to you after this morning. When you're down to one, give the other 4 back to me and I'll wash them again x_

Quinn smiled, at the idea of Rachel not talking to her and at the crossed out kiss. She pushed the note inside her Algebra textbook and then grabbed that and the magazine before pulling her head back out of the locker.

"And I don't, _ever_!" She slammed her locker shut for emphasis.

"Then why did you . . .?"

"It doesn't matter." She took his hand as they walked towards the doors and smiled sweetly at him. "I want to hang out with just you, but can we do it tomorrow? I'm just feeling a little tired."

"Because of, you know, the baby and stuff? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, and it's perfectly normal." Probably. "I just want to take a nap now so my parents don't suspect anything when they get home."

"Okay," he smiled. "Can I walk you to your car?"

"Of course."

She kissed him once they were there, leaning against the cool metal with her arms tight around his neck as he leaned into her. It was nice, made her feel comforted after her crappy day, and he smelled good but . . . not in a way that soothed the nausea. Maybe she could find a way to switch his Mom's fabric softener without her knowing.

After one last chaste peck goodbye she pushed at his chest. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Text me if you need anything."

"I will."

He kissed her cheek. "Bye then."

She barely waited until he was around the corner to where his Mom's car was parked before she was down on the ground, feeling around behind her right front tire. She found it at once – Berry had pushed it just enough to be out of sight but still within easy reach – and stood up, brushing grit from her hands and knees.

She waited until she was seated in the car before pulling out a fresh one – blue this time – and holding it to her nose.

Oh, that was better!

* * *

><p>The following day Rachel was already seated in American Lit. when Quinn arrived. She frowned as she approached because Finn was sitting in <em>her <em>seat, chatting to her. Berry was extremely animated, waving her hands around and laughing as she talked and Finn was grinning like an idiot, lapping up every word she said.

"_Excuse_ me?" she said, stopping next to them.

"We were just talking," Finn said quickly.

"Well, can you talk from somewhere other than _my_ chair?"

"My bad," he stood up, grinning again, and gave her a quick kiss, which she accepted while still glaring at him. "Rachel was just telling me about this movie she saw last night. What was it called again, Rach?"

Quinn's eyes went to her as his did, but her raised eyebrow was completely wasted because Berry was staring nonchalantly towards the front of the room as if she hadn't even heard the question.

"Sounds fascinating," she deadpanned.

"Rach?" he tried again.

"Hudson!" Mr. Laxforth entered the room, dropping papers onto his desk. "Is that where you are supposed to be?"

"Dude's so got it in for me," Finn muttered before heading to his new desk at the front.

Quinn finally sank into her own seat and spared Berry one glance, who didn't return it, before taking out her book and focusing on the lesson.

"So," Mr. Laxforth began. "I assume you all finished the book over the weekend, considering that was your homework." There were various unenthusiastic replies. "Good."

He turned to the board to write and Quinn glanced at Rachel again, she was still studiously staring to the front.

"Did you finish it?" she murmured.

Rachel didn't answer until Mr. Laxforth was turning back around and then it was just a nod.

"Your homework tonight is a one thousand word essay on _The Call of the Wild_, tailoring your response to answer this question." He pointed his dry erase marker behind him to the board. "And because I'm sure some of you aren't being quite so honest about your reading progress _and _because I have a wad of papers to mark before fourth period, you may use this lesson to make notes and begin your essays. And no talking, I need to concentrate."

He bent over his own pile of papers immediately, leaving them to get on with it, and Quinn found her notes before opening her notepad to a fresh page.

She wrote for five minutes, launching straight into the essay, before the indifference from the girl beside her became more interesting. Was she really not talking to her now? If it was real it was a good thing, providing Berry was still happy to wash her handkerchiefs, but it was surprising, and the urge to test her resolve was just too tempting.

She switched to a new paragraph and wrote _Hey_ before pushing the pad to the side like she'd done before. Rachel's eyes darted towards the movement, long enough that she had to have read the word, but she just kept writing her essay.

Quinn wrote some more. _That was me saying Hi._

Again Rachel looked at it, again she didn't respond.

Wow, she had more resolve than Quinn expected; she always relished a challenge though.

_Thank you for leaving the handkerchiefs for me yesterday._

A look and then nothing.

At least she thought nothing until a few seconds later Rachel sat back a little and Quinn could see that, in the middle of a paragraph, she had written something definitely not to do with _The Call of the Wild_.

_-You didn't deserve it.-_

That was probably true. _Then why did you do it?_

No answer, Berry was back to her essay. Quinn watched her write for a few minutes in case she added something for her. She didn't.

_Finn and Puck egged his house last Halloween because he said they were too old for trick or treating. He's never forgiven them._

Rachel looked, frowned in confusion, and went back to her essay.

_Last week you asked why Laxforth hates Finn, remember?_

Nothing! And Quinn was getting frustrated. She didn't usually even pass notes in class and now she was trying to do it with Rachel Berry of all people and Berry was acting like she didn't exist. She wanted to punch her more than ever. Instead she wrote another note.

_What is your problem?_

Incensed, Rachel's pen scratched furiously across the paper, resolve broken.

_You! I thought you might have had the decency to apologize for how you treated me in front of your friends yesterday!_

Quinn frowned, _Why? How else would I treat you!_

Rachel looked like she was about to start yelling at her or crying or both, but thankfully a glance around the room reminded her they were surrounded by their classmates and she simply licked her bottom lip and dropped her eyes back to her pages, shoulders hunching halfway up to her ears. And what sort of reaction was that? Quinn looked back down at the last line she'd written and still couldn't see anything wrong with it. How did Rachel expect her to treat her exactly? Just because they'd had a really, _really_ weird week last week, with all the talking and sort of hugging and . . . sniffing and, um . . . _nudity_ . . . it didn't suddenly change anything between them.

It _couldn't_!

_I just warned you away from Finn, I thought you'd prefer that or something. Now I know how ungrateful you are maybe next time I'll warn you away from me instead. See how you get treated then. _

She had to poke Rachel in the arm with her pen, leaving a tiny blue dot on the sleeve of her blouse, before the other girl would even read what she'd just written.

Rachel's eyes narrowed, she sneered and then pen met paper like a head on collision. _You are such a bitch!_

_You knew that before you started crushing on me!_

It was embarrassing, trying to one-up Berry on exclamation remarks, even more embarrassing that she had written that in the first place and she instinctively went to scribble it out but she was too late.

_I DO NOT HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU!_

_Liar._

_Do you WANT me to have a crush on you?_

Quinn felt her face flame even as her stomach turned icy. Just how much trouble would she really get into for stabbing Rachel repeatedly in the face with her pen?

When she'd calmed down enough to not do that, she responded with: _Don't be absurd!_

_You act like you do! You are the one who keeps bringing it up after all._

_That's because you keep acting like a horny dog every time we speak! It's unsettling._

_And yet you love it!_

As soon as her eyes had processed the words she stamped down on Rachel's foot, causing her to muffle a squeak of pain with her hand.

_You're delusional, I fucking hate you._

Rachel gasped but her hand was quick. _I effing hate you too. And you're the delusional one. You think you're so strong and untouchable but who had whose head buried in my lap last_

Quinn didn't wait for her to finish the sentence before ripping the entire page from Rachel's notebook in a flat out rage. The girl tried to stop her but Quinn was too fast and had it in little pieces within seconds. The students around them looked over, until a glare from the head cheerleader stalled their curiosity, but Mr. Laxforth didn't notice a thing.

_You just turned my essay into confetti! _Rachel wrote on a fresh piece of paper.

Quinn threw the pieces at her face before continuing with her own essay as if nothing had happened.

_Why do people keep ripping up my paperwork this week? _

_Because everyone hates you!_

Quinn didn't look up to see Berry's expression but the way her elbow came down between them, shielding her completely, made her think her words had had the desired effect. She kept her huff inside and mirrored Berry's position so that the arm barrier between them was absolute.

She was so freaking infuriating.

Quinn had actually been trying to be nice. So it wasn't something she had a lot of practice in, but Berry was supposed to lap up the attention and give her an A-plus or one of her stupid gold stars for the effort.

Instead she'd . . . she'd _turned_ on her!

Stuffing a pale green handkerchief under her nose and her fist in her mouth, she closed her eyes to hide the shimmer of tears and cursed her damn hormones to hell and back for overreacting to something as insignificant as Rachel-_freaking-_Berry.


	9. One Can Have a Dream, Baby

**Chapter Eight: **

**One Can Have a Dream, Baby.**

Rachel was surprised to find Finn waiting by her locker before school on Wednesday morning.

"Aren't you risking the Quinn Fabray wrath?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Finn grinned easily. "Quinn's okay, in fact she's awesome. Kinda like you. If you two would just spend some time together you'd see that."

Rachel's heart fluttered at Finn calling her awesome, or maybe it was the suggestion that she spend time with Quinn.

"I don't think that's going to happen, Finn," Rachel said, opening her locker before he could see the disappointment in her eyes. "So what can I help you with?"

"Oh, right, that. I was thinking about Mr. Schue's assignment this week, you know the one about picking a song by a band from another country to sing? But . . . I don't really know any. Well, other than Beatles, but I heard Puck and Artie both already say they're gonna do them and I want mine to stand out, you know?"

Rachel smiled, pleased that he was making a serious effort, "I'm sure you know a lot more than you think you do. The Who. The Doors. Pink Floyd."

"Oh yeah, I know them," Finn's grin turned to confusion. "Wait, they're not American?"

Rachel gave him an indulgent smile and patted his arm. "I'll print you out a list of bands that I think will suit your voice and singing ability, along with a few of their more popular numbers for you to choose from. Do you want to meet in the choir room at lunch to go through it?"

"I can't. I kinda like to have lunch with Quinn; it's the only time I really see her these days."

Rachel kept her look of distaste on the inside. After yesterday she couldn't imagine why anyone would want to willingly spend time with the mean cheerleader; she'd certainly cancelled all of her future plans (fantasies) of doing so.

"What about after school?"

"Yeah, that could work. Quinn always wants to go straight home these days anyway."

Rachel felt calculating – she hoped she didn't look it too. "Why does she need to go straight home?"

Finn looked like a deer in headlights; to anyone who _knew _he was so obvious. Rachel was just pleased that _he knew_, because she hadn't had a chance to ask Quinn if Finn was even aware he was going to be a father and now that her allegiance was firmly back where it should be – with the boy in front of her – it just made things easier on her if she didn't have to wrestle with her conscience about whether to tell or not.

"Oh, you know, Coach Sylvester works her hard, she gets tired."

"Of course. We'll just meet after school then. After you've said goodbye to Quinn," she said, closing her locker and turning towards class, adding under her breath, _'and preferably in front of Quinn too. I'll show her who has a crush on whom!_'

* * *

><p>"Did you want to hang out after school?" Finn asked as soon as he'd sat down at their lunch table, elbowing Puck for more room and sending her water bottle skittering across the table with his tray. "Do something together?"<p>

Quinn sighed heavily; she didn't want to blow him off two days in a row but she was already on her second handkerchief of the day. She'd read Berry's magazine the night before and was starting to think this level of morning sickness might be unusual. You were supposed to get periods of nausea throughout the day, but eating light meals was apparently the cure. She'd been _doing _that and yet still felt sick so much. Was something else wrong? Or was it just that after finally finding something that _worked_, having it snatched away again just made the sickness feel that much more pronounced?

Berry was still avoiding her and she couldn't believe that that was something she had even noticed let alone cared about but . . . she had and, yeah, now she felt sicker than ever.

She quashed the thought before it could take hold, because it was ridiculous. Berry had provided her with the handkerchiefs but there was nothing more the girl could do to make her feel better.

Finn was the one who was supposed to make her feel better, and with that in mind, "Sure. If you want."

"Oh."

Her head snapped to her boyfriend, "What do you mean, _oh_?"

"Nothing! I just didn't think you'd want to."

"Really? So you have other plans?"

"No! I was the one to ask you, remember? It's just . . . Rachel offered to go through some songs for this week's assignment with me this afternoon, but I said I could only do it if I wasn't hanging out with you. But if you want to do something . . ."

"You'd rather spend time with_ Stubbles_than me?"

"No!" he whisper-shouted again. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

She had, but he'd irritated her by saying _that_name at all. "You are not allowed to hang out with that freak show!"

"Quinn, she's not that bad. She's actually pretty okay."

"As the mother of your child," she hissed under her breath. "I _demand_you go and get a psych test!"

"What the . . .?" she heard him begin but she was already walking away; she needed a bathroom _again._

* * *

><p>After school Rachel waited in the choir room but Finn never showed up and then, around ten minutes after the final bell, Quinn stuck her head around the door, as if checking she was alone.<p>

Rachel faked a cool, disinterested look but Quinn didn't even stay long enough to register it.

* * *

><p>Thursday morning in American Literature, Rachel studiously ignored Quinn. It was much easier this time because Quinn was ignoring her too.<p>

"Okay, thank you. I have all of your essays," Mr. Laxforth began. "I'll mark them over the weekend. Now pass these worksheets around. This will finish our work on _The Call of the Wild_. You may quietly discuss the questions with the person next to you if you wish but if I hear too much noise I'm in the mood to hand out detentions."

Quinn and Rachel both huffed before starting work on their questions, separately.

"You're a jerk," Rachel suddenly muttered. She hadn't meant to but the bristling tension between them had dragged it out of her.

"Excuse me?" Quinn muttered back. "Am I going after _your _boyfriend?"

"I'm not going after your boyfriend!"

"Of course not. You just want to hang out with him after school to discuss _music_."

Berry hesitated, "He told you about that?"

"He's my _boyfriend! _Of course he did."

"It was just about music."

"Why?"

"I'm sorry?"

Quinn turned to her, smirking. "Why was it just about music? Finn's hot. Every girl in this school wants him. Why are you different?"

Rachel ducked her head because there was no good way to answer that. If she said she did like him – which she did, in so far as he was very good looking, perfect leading man material and, well, the only boy in school that was ever nice to her – Quinn would probably punch her. If she said she didn't, Quinn would take it to mean something else.

In the end, gritting her teeth, she settled on, "I like Finn, a lot, but I'm fully aware he has a girlfriend. And as his taste in girls is clearly abysmally cliché I'm actually quite thankful that I'm not his—" she made air quotes. "—type."

Quinn leaned in close to the side of her face, placing her hand over Rachel's wrist and trapping it against the surface of the desk. The move was executed so slowly and appeared so casual that it was ten times more terrifying than being swung into the lockers the other day.

"Let's get real for a moment, Berry, shall we?" Quinn was so close Rachel could feel the whisper wash over her cheek on a breeze of minty breath. The subtle scent of coconuts and lime that drifted over with a sway of that perfect blonde ponytail would have taken her mind to a balmy, tropical location if the ice in Quinn's tone hadn't frozen it very much in the here and now. "We both know that you would kill to be a _cliché _like me. I know girls like you, girls permanently stuck at the bottom that will do anything to get to the top. You want the quarterback boyfriend and the cool circle of friends and you want people to look at you, just once, like you're something special instead of a big joke to everyone . . . Which kind of begs the question: why are you playing games with me when you know that I can destroy you completely with a snap of my fingers?"

"I—games? I don't understand."

"Don't try and play dumb, Berry." She wasn't trying or playing actually. "You don't just flirt with somebody like that one day and then suddenly decide you're not interested the next."

Was she . . .? Was Quinn talking about . . .?

How warm was this room? It was only the first week of October; had they turned the heat on already? And where was the air? Why was there not more air in here? She turned her head just enough to see that Quinn's face was still startlingly close.

This wasn't . . . She hadn't . . . she hadn't _prepared_ for this. _Was_ she interested? Was _Quinn? _Was any of this even really happening?

She didn't have to pinch herself to see if she was awake because Quinn's fingers tightening around her wrist until her short nails were digging into her skin did it for her.

"And I _warned_ you what would happen if you went after Finn again. So just bury that little crush back deep inside of you and _move on_."

Oh! The little air she'd managed to suck in rushed back out and she blushed hard at her mistake. "Okay."

It wasn't the response she wanted to give, far from it, but it was all that came out and it at least made Quinn let go of her and sit back.

They waited out the remainder of the lesson in silence.

* * *

><p>When the bell rang Quinn was the first out of the door, leaving Berry as far behind as possible. Their confrontation had rattled her even though she'd been the one to start it.<p>

She wasn't even sure where she had been going with her little speech to start with. She was just irritable and in the mood to make Berry squirm because it was way more fun than being ignored by the loser.

And perhaps she missed the attention, just a little.

But she hadn't really been thinking of Finn at all until Berry had started to breathe funny and then she'd realized that she was practically purring her words into the girl's ear and, okay, she had panicked because . . . what the hell was she even doing?

She didn't _need _Rachel's attention. She didn't need any girl's attention. She had a boyfriend for that. And so she had blathered something about staying away from Finn because clearly the both of them had needed a reminder that he existed.

The whole encounter made her feel sick and for the rest of the day, whenever she saw Rachel in the halls or in class, she felt weak and ashamed and she couldn't even put her finger on exactly why.

_'You don't just flirt with somebody like that one day and then suddenly decide you're not interested the next.'_

Okay, so maybe she did know why.

* * *

><p>Friday, in History, Quinn dropped her pen as she walked past her desk but Rachel kept her eyes on the board. It wasn't until she was putting her books away at the end of the lesson that she noticed the box with four balled up handkerchiefs inside.<p>

She shook her head, top teeth scraping her bottom lip as she eyed the box with a mixture of disdain and disbelief. Quinn had some nerve just dropping them into her bag like that. Like . . . like Rachel had nothing better to do with her weekend than Quinn's laundry!

Not that she did have anything better to do, but that was beside the point.

She should just throw them away. It would serve Quinn right for being such a jerk all the time.

Rolling her eyes at herself, she knew she was never going to do that. It pained her to admit it but Quinn's audacity sent a little thrill through her. They still had their secret and Quinn might hate her more than ever but she still _needed _her too.

* * *

><p>In Glee club that afternoon Mr. Schuester had them try a new song he wanted to put on the shortlist for Sectionals.<p>

_It Takes Two._

It was a good song, fast and punchy – even if everyone else complained it was a little dated – and Rachel knew it would suit her voice perfectly and she did enjoy duets with Finn. So it was only when Mr. Schue had them all stand up and started to explain the dance steps he had in mind that she found a reason to speak up.

"While I applaud your faith in _all_of our abilities, I think on this occasion you may be over-reaching?"

"How so, Rachel?"

"Well, you're suggesting very advanced choreography. I, with my years of dance training, will not find it so arduous and I'm sure that Mike and I suspect Brittany will also master it fairly quickly, but do you not think you're being a little unfair to those less skilled club members like Puck and Quinn."

"Watch it, Treasure Trail!" Quinn snapped from the end of the row. "I dance just as well as you and you don't get to be head of the top cheerleading squad in the country if you can't learn tough choreography."

Rachel had actually meant to say Finn, but then decided not to embarrass him at the last second, but that was neither here nor there because obviously Quinn hadn't realized yet what she had, her real reason for finding fault in the first place.

Mr. Schuester smiled, "I think everyone can handle it. Besides, that's why I want to start practicing it so early; it gives us nine weeks to perfect it. Let's run through it now."

It was a very sloppy affair, because you couldn't even learn the Macarena perfectly after one go, but with Mr. Schuester grabbing their shoulders, pulling them into position and occasionally guiding their hips, they shuffled through it _sans _lifts for the time being.

"And then Tina jumps, Puck spins," he chanted each one of them through the moves even though for now Puck just held Tina's hands and they turned together. "Tina's arms go up, slide to the floor, turn, turn, right hand in Quinn's left, Quinn twirl her, that's right, now Tina tuck in close, now spin together, arms extend, hands release, turn, turn, jump into Finn's arms, now spin . . ."

"I'm getting d-d-dizzy!"

"Nearly there, Tina, pretend to slide to the floor, turn, turn, that's it, take Brittany's hand, Brittany twirl her, perfect! Now tuck in close, that's great, now to Matt." As Tina made it to the end of the line he moved his eyes back along it. "Mercedes, you should be reaching Brittany by now."

"I know!" she snapped, she was still at the arms outstretched with Quinn part. "But you try spinning all over the place like this and see how you keep up."

"You're doing great," Mr. Schuester promised her. "And we've got plenty of time to work on speed."

Santana was the next down the line and she made the spinning and twirling look effortless.

"Looking great, Santana," Mr. Schue praised. "Just try working on smiling at the same time as dancing. Kurt get out of the line. You're supposed to be at the back with Mike and Artie."

"That's discrimination," he pointed out as he slunk back to his spot.

"And it's discriminating on me to expect me to twirl a dude in my arms," Puck said.

"Brittany and I are twirling the girls," Quinn pointed out.

"It's different, they ain't jumping you on."

It wasn't that different, Rachel thought as she stepped up to Puck and, taking his hands in lieu of jumping on him today, turned in a tight circle. It was exactly as awkward in fact, she decided as she turned, turned and let her arm swing out naturally. Perhaps even more so. She was about to be sick, and not from being dizzy.

Quinn took her hand automatically and if the sudden contact had come with its own special effects sound, it would have been POW! Electric shocks didn't feel this wonderful but Rachel could think of no other way to describe the lightning bolt feeling of intense current that flowed from their joined hands straight into her blood stream.

It was . . . well, as she'd just decided it was indescribable. It was definitely something though.

Quinn froze – was she feeling it too? – and Rachel went stiff and the twirl ended almost before it began. Their hands were clasped tightly together as each one squeezed in surprise and their arms were still in the air and Rachel was side on to Quinn but she could see a look of surprise on the blonde's face out the corner of her eye.

Quinn wrenched her hand back and Rachel shook hers in the air to lose the electric feeling of the other girl's palm.

"Actually, Mr. Schue, I think Rachel has a point." Quinn took a step back from her. "This routine is too complicated for us right now. Maybe if we get through to Regionals we can try it again."

"Nonsense, you're doing great, Quinn. Really great! All of you are. We'll have it nailed by Sectionals."

"Fine, but I'm not doing it anymore today."

"Come on," Mr. Schuester coaxed. "We have time for one more run-through."

"I don't, I have to leave early. Family dinner." And with that Quinn walked over to grab her bag and left.

Rachel watched her go, vaguely hearing relieved groans as Mr. Schue agreed they could give the dancing a miss and just go through the song once more, because Quinn's harmonies wouldn't be missed as much as her place in the routine.

Half an hour later they were wrapping up for the day and Rachel was still lost in thought. She'd known her feelings towards Quinn were changing, she'd already admitted that horrible truth to herself, but she had never expected the simple act of holding her hand – in a _routine_ no less – to affect her so much. Her palm was still tingling from the contact – they had just fit together so perfectly and all she'd wanted to do was entwine their fingers and _hold on_.

Is that what she had done? Those few seconds seemed like a blur of confusion now but if she had tried to push the contact . . . was that what had made Quinn react as she had? Or was just the mere thought of holding her hand repulsive enough that Quinn had freaked out? Or . . . She had one more extremely far-fetched 'or' but before her brain could fully form it Finn was speaking to her.

"I wanted to apologize for not showing up Wednesday afternoon."

"It's okay, Quinn explained it," she said automatically.

"She did? Oh, that's kind of embarrassing."

She turned to smile at him. "No, it's fine. She's your girlfriend and she loves you, it's only natural that she feels the need to warn me off. Or . . . or not me per se, but just other girls in general."

Finn grinned down at her and he really was adorable. "I just feel bad because it was my idea and then I kind of stood you up."

He hadn't kind of stood her up, he _had _stood her up, but she just smiled again. "It's okay, Finn, honestly."

"Cool."

"Hey, Hudson," Santana called over. "Party at Puck's place next Friday. Don't forget to remind Quinn she needs to get her parents to call mine."

"Quinn's parents coordinate party details with your parents?" Rachel smiled. It was sweet but unexpected from someone like Santana who seemed more like a wild kegger kind of girl.

"Did I mistakenly make you think you were a part of this conversation?" Santana sneered before adding sweetly. "Sorry about that."

Once she and Brittany were gone Finn leaned down conspiratorially. "Santana's parents won't actually be there, but Quinn's Dad won't let her go if he doesn't speak to them first. So either Brittany pretends to her Mom or Puck pretends to be her Dad."

"Oh. But neither of them sounds the slightest bit Hispanic."

"No, but they can do a good Christian when they want to and that's all that counts."

Rachel felt even more confused, "But Noah Puckerman's Jewish."

"You're way over-thinking this," Finn laughed. "Anyway I'd better go. See you Monday."

Rachel was left alone with her thoughts again as she went to collect her bag from the risers. She pushed the lyrics sheet Mr. Schuester had given them into it and saw the box of handkerchiefs again. She should really just buy Quinn a bottle of the same fabric softener her dads used and let her do her own darn laundry, she thought, but at the same time she smiled at being able to do this thing for her and remembered again how it had felt to hold her hand.

Shaking her head at how confusing it all was, she left to go and meet her Dad.


	10. Two Can Make That Nightmare Real

**Chapter Nine: **

**Two Can Make That Nightmare Real**

She held Rachel firmly against the lockers, feeling the fast beat of her heart under her palm and the swell of a breast against her pinky finger.

Rachel didn't seem to mind; she smiled, twirling a yellow straw in her tall glass of lemonade –_ turn turn – _Quinn felt dizzy.

"If you don't dance with me everyone will know."

"_If_I dance with you everyone will know."

She could smell the lemonade, it was sweeter than the lemony scent she now associated with Rachel but it was still good. She wanted it. Her mouth was dry and she needed that cool liquid on her tongue to calm her down. She watched Rachel's lips close delicately around the straw. She wanted it.

"You mean I'll know?" Rachel asked, still sucking on the straw.

"And I'll know."

"Which would be worse."

"Obviously."

She didn't know if it was her or Rachel who said, "You're Quinn Fabray, you can have anyone you want, so if you want the damn lemonade that much just take it."

She was leaning in to claim the straw, still tucked between Rachel's pursed lips, when the bell rang.

Jerking awake, Quinn slapped her hand down on the top of her old fashioned alarm clock, silencing its shrill clanging, and groaned. She had never been so happy in her whole life to wake up before she could do something stupid, but being ripped from the dream like that guaranteed it would haunt her all day.

Still groaning, she rolled out of bed. She would not dwell on it. People dreamed crazy stuff all the time and it didn't mean you actually wanted it to happen. It was just . . . pregnancy hormones or something messing with her. There was only one way to handle this: stay away from all things Berry. If she didn't see her, talk to her or _smell her_for a few days this weirdness would all go away.

* * *

><p>She was successful all day, spending History in the nurse's office, lunch in the bathroom behind the gym, begging off Gym with monthly cramps – biggest lie ever and the lack of them was actually the only good thing about being pregnant – and skipping Glee altogether.<p>

A few times she had to dodge the girl in the halls but she managed it smoothly enough that no one asked 'Why are you hiding from Rachel?' Because really, what would she say to that? She didn't even really know herself.

All she did know was that her morning sickness had lasted all day and was worse than ever and she'd had nothing to relieve that horrible feeling even for a minute.

It took most of the triumphant feeling out of her success, especially when she doubted she'd be able to go another day without giving in.

* * *

><p>By Tuesday morning Rachel was a bag of nerves. She'd barely slept over the weekend and then after Quinn's total avoidance the day before she'd had to add another night to her insomnia record.<p>

She made sure to be in American Lit. early so that she didn't have to walk towards their shared desk looking like she _was _a bag of nerves but it backfired on her a little when Finn once again decided to join her at the back for a few minutes.

He didn't take Quinn's seat this time but squatted down in front of the desk and with his ample height he was still half a head taller than Rachel.

"Good weekend?"

"It was okay."

"Cool."

She didn't think she'd made it sound that way. "How was yours?"

"Quiet, you know. Me and Quinn hung out Saturday night and I spent Sunday playing Mario Kart with Puck."

Rachel nodded until she registered that Quinn had just entered the room. Her eyes shot to her for a few seconds before returning to Finn's.

"I've never played Mario Kart before."

"Seriously?" Finn looked shocked. "You totally have to come and have a tournament with us sometime. Right, Quinn?"

The cheerleader was just sliding into her seat, frowning at them. "What?"

"Rachel's never played Mario Kart!" He turned to her again. "Quinn is like the best player. She can even beat me sometimes."

"Have I ever lost to you?" Quinn smiled sweetly but the expression darkened to a scowl almost at once as she jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "But I am not playing with her."

"And I'm not playing with you either," Rachel shot back, determined to get the last word.

She didn't. "Good!"

Finn was looking back and forth between them as if they were freaking him out.

Rachel smiled, reaching out to touch the back of his arm. "But perhaps you could teach me sometime and then, if one day Quinn can't make it, we can play together, just the two of us?"

"Are you actually coming on to my boyfriend while I'm sitting right here?"

Quinn was glaring at her, her eyes blazing, and while Rachel had to admit that it scared her, it was better than last week when Quinn had barely looked at her at all.

"Would you prefer me to do it behind your back?"

"If you wanted a nice, neat suicide, you should have sucked on a shotgun, because now I am _this_ close to _fucking you up_, Berry!"

"Maybe getting _fucked_ is exactly what I'm looking for, _Fabray_!" she shot back angrily and it was only Quinn flinching that made Rachel realize what she'd actually said. "I-I-I was obviously still talking about my untimely death and. . ."

Looking both smug and highly uncomfortable, Finn's large hand covered her own briefly, before he tilted his head to look at her earnestly. "Look, I'm really flattered, Rach, really, I mean it's not every day a girl wants to . . . uh . . . but I love Quinn, you know, so that's never gonna happen. So I guess I'm saying thanks," he flashed her a big grin," but no thanks."

Rachel heard him speaking and enough of the words registered that she felt a little offended on Quinn's behalf – he should have shot her down at once not rambled around the issue trying to let her down easily, not _in front _of his girlfriend – but he was blending into the background noise because her eyes were still locked on Quinn's and they were still glaring and any second she was expecting Quinn's hand to come around and slap her cheek.

"I should go sit down." He was probably staring at Quinn, waiting for a response, but he didn't get one. "Right then."

His departure diffused the tension in Quinn's face and she turned to take her notepad out of her bag, muttering, "I can't believe you said that."

Rachel looked down to where her hands were fiddling with her pen. "I can't believe I said that either. I don't say things like that."

"But you were talking about Finn, right?"

"O-of course, who else would I have been talking about?"

Quinn nodded, her mouth pressing into a thin line for a second. "Okay, good, let's just forget about it then."

Rachel nodded along, before looking at her curiously, "I'm sorry, what?"

"No harm, no foul. Stop looking at me like that. He turned you down. Let's move on. Seriously stop looking at me."

Rachel turned away. The lesson still hadn't started and the other students were making the most of Mr. Laxforth's absence; balled up pieces of paper were flying about and the noise level was akin to the cafeteria at lunch time. Rachel and Quinn were the only two not participating in the mayhem, sitting quietly and facing the front as if a lesson actually was in session.

"I don't understand."

"It means keep your eyes to yourself; I don't want to feel them on me."

"Not about that. You were ready to kill me two minutes ago and now you're just _letting it go_."

"Yes?"

"Why?"

"Because as much as I should punch you in the face for what you just did . . . and _said_," Quinn shuddered, either with anger or revulsion. "I'd much rather just have my handkerchiefs back." Or morning sickness, Rachel realized. "So, if you could just give them to me we'll call it even . . . for now."

Rachel was already reaching for her bag when she remembered. Her face fell. "I don't have them."

"What? I . . . I . . . _Rachel._"

At the desperate hiss of her name Rachel heard the phantom clang of her back hitting a locker and her body tensed the way it had with Quinn leaning over her, pinning her in place with her eyes as much as her hand.

"I carried them around all day yesterday but I didn't see you. They're in my locker. We can go and get them after . . ." One look at Quinn's clenched jaw and the hand that was subtly holding her stomach beneath the desk had Rachel rising from her chair. "I'll get them now."

Two steps towards the front of class Mr. Laxforth breezed in, offering a generic apology as he brought the mayhem under control with practiced ease and ordered Rachel back into her seat without a glance.

"Sir, please, I just need to . . ." she was still inching forward.

"No, Miss Berry, sit down. We've already lost ten minutes of the lesson."

"That's hardly my fault," she pointed out. "I've been here since the bell rang."

Mr. Laxforth looked up coolly. "Take your seat, Miss Berry. And start looking forward to lunch time detention."

"But . . ."

"Sit down!" he yelled and Rachel's feet carried her back to her chair before her brain could try and argue anymore.

"Sorry," she murmured, noting that Quinn was looking even paler than before and there were beads of moisture making her forehead glisten now. "Is it really bad today?"

"It's been really bad for two days; I think it's now moved into uberbad."

"This is what you get for avoiding me yesterday," Rachel smiled. "Also, if we were the kind of people who hung out together on weekends, I could have given you the handkerchiefs Saturday."

"Can you save the 'let's be friends' pitch for a time when you haven't just come on to my boyfriend and I'm not about to throw up all over the desk."

Rachel's eyes widened, "You'd be susceptible to such a proposal in the future?"

"No, but it's just really not helping me keep my breakfast down right now."

Rachel would have thought she was just being mean for the sake of it if Quinn hadn't quickly covered her mouth with her hand, fingers pressing down on her lips. Her throat moved as she swallowed hard.

"Why don't you tell Mr. Laxforth you need to see the nurse? He can't stop you from doing that."

Quinn moved her hand from her mouth to her cheek, leaning on it so that her head was ducked towards Rachel and the students on the other side of the aisle couldn't see her face or the fact that they were murmuring to each other.

"I already went yesterday; if I go two days in a row she'll start asking questions. And too many people have seen me sprinting into the bathroom between classes as it is. I had to tell Santana I have a UTI, but on top of the food poisoning story she's starting to get suspicious." Quinn covered her mouth for a second again as she swallowed.

"Well, vomiting in class isn't going to defer anyone's suspicions. At least if you . . ."

"Is your hoodie clean?"

"Of course, it was laundered last night . . ." Rachel's mouth went slack as she caught up and then her teeth clacked together before she hissed, "You can't be serious. We're in class! You can't sniff my sleeve here!"

Quinn's warning glare clearly said _Shut Up! _"I don't plan to. Take it off."

Rachel could only stare at her, momentarily lost in a fantasy where Quinn Fabray was asking her to undress.

"Take . . . _it _. . . off!" she repeated slowly, half growling the words, and that really didn't help. She could feel her cheeks reddening. Quinn frowned, "I really don't want to know what you're thinking right now, do I?"

That was enough to bring Rachel back to reality and her eyes darted around the room, mostly to get away from Quinn's but also to check to see if anyone was paying them any attention.

"I don't see why not. I was only trying to come up with a solution to our problem that wasn't as insane as yours."

"And did you?"

Rachel unzipped the green and white argyle-patterned hooded jacket and slipped it from her shoulders. "Unfortunately not. Do you want me to pass it under the table?"

She heard Quinn sigh, "I think clutching your hoodie like a blanky under the desk will raise more questions than decorating the class with regurgitated wheat crackers and orange juice. Just give it to me."

Rachel handed it over and her eyes went so wide she was surprised they didn't fall right out of the sockets when Quinn slipped it on, shaking the hood out comfortably before zipping it up to her collar bone. Luckily the jacket was loose on Rachel and therefore not so tight as to look silly on Quinn. There was just enough give in the sleeves for her to pull the left one down over her hand and lean the side of her mouth against it. Rachel watched her take a few deep contented breaths as she finally cracked open _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn._

"Close your mouth," she muttered, eyes on page one.

Rachel opened her own paperback copy of the classic, muttering back, "Do you feel better?"

"Physically, yes. Mentally, emotionally and fashionistically, I'm pretty sure I've just scarred myself for life. Did anyone notice me put it on?"

"Only everyone in the back row of desks."

Quinn groaned and then sighed and then nuzzled her nose against the material of the sleeve, her eyes half closing in satisfaction as she deeply inhaled. Rachel watched, smiling at her behavior; she could actually see the relief washing over Quinn's face and her body relaxing as the rejuvenating scent of lemons chased the nauseous tension away.

"You have to stop looking at me," Quinn murmured, "or people are going to get the wrong idea."

Rachel grinned; Quinn was worrying about rumors being started about them when she had just brazenly pulled on her hoodie in front of four other students. All of which had glanced over at least once while she had. She couldn't actually see any notes being passed forward from desk to desk but something as out of the ordinary as the head of the Cheerios wearing Rachel Berry's clothes was not going to stay quiet for long.

The fact that Quinn knew this as well as she did, _better_than she did, had to be killing the blonde and maybe it was cruel but it just made Rachel enjoy the whole thing even more. She covered her mouth with her fingers to hide her smile and looked down at her book.

"Maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing," she whispered.

Quinn's returning whisper was harsh, "How can you say that?"

"At least it would throw people off of your real secret."

Quinn was quiet for a while, she flipped the page and read a few paragraphs before muttering, "Not your secret, though."

Rachel closed her eyes, breathing out, "I _don't_have a crush on you."

"Okay," Quinn accepted her answer easily this time and Rachel frowned but didn't look up. "But pretending to be _your_girlfriend would leave me lower down the social ladder at McKinley than people finding out the other thing, so it wouldn't really be a lot of help."

That was true, although Rachel wished she hadn't felt the need to point it out so bluntly, she was just trying to help after all. That's all she'd been trying to do from the start and Quinn seemed happy to accept it, providing she didn't have to try and be nice in return. She hadn't even apologized for being the cause of her lunch time detention – her first detention ever!

She fumed quietly over the unjustness of it all for the rest of the lesson. Quinn glanced over once or twice, as if wondering why their murmured conversation had stopped abruptly, but Rachel pretended not to notice – if Quinn didn't want her looking at her, she wouldn't.

* * *

><p>The use of cell phones was banned in class but someone had been breaking the rules in American Lit. Quinn had barely cleared the classroom's threshold before she was aware of the looks and comments muffled by cupped hands in the hallway.<p>

It was ridiculous how truly pathetic the personal lives of her classmates must be that they were acting like her wearing Berry's jacket was the gossip of the decade. Despite knowing that that made her far superior to the rest of them, it didn't stop her from shaking under their collective hungry gaze as she approached her locker with as much confidence as she could fake.

By the time she'd turned her locker dial the urge to turn and shout _'It's because I got knocked up by my boyfriend's best friend, alright? Not because I'm attracted to Rachel-freaking-Berry' _was almost unbearable.

Thankfully Santana's shoulder bumped against the locker next to hers before she could out her pregnancy to avoid outing anything else.

"What the hell, Q?"

Quinn turned her head, subtly inhaling the shoulder of the hoodie as she asked, "What?"

Santana blatantly stared at the jacket, raising an eyebrow. "You're seriously gonna make me spell out what is wrong with this picture?"

"Oh that." Quinn rolled her eyes and turned back to her locker, "I was cold in class so I made her give me her jacket. You should have seen her face."

"You _made_her give it to you? She didn't offer?"

It was all about the nuance with Santana, luckily Quinn didn't even have to lie. "Yes, I said 'give it to me', she whimpered and stammered for a few minutes until I pointed out that saying no wasn't an option and then it was mine." She shot a smirk over her shoulder. "I'm actually pissed I had to tell her twice but we can come up with some payback for that at lunch."

Santana was mollified by being included in some form of punishment. "I say we lock her out on the roof after school."

"I doubt she'd fall for that again, besides her Dads reported her as missing last time."

Quinn shut her locker and glanced over to Rachel's, searching for a way to get the handkerchiefs from her without Santana seeing, but Rachel wasn't there or anywhere in the hall as far as she could tell. Great, that meant she was wearing the stupid hoodie for at least another period.

People were still looking at her as she and Santana walked to class. Although they were the quick subtle glances that peasants once gave passing royalty it didn't make them any less maddening or, for that matter, less nerve-wracking.

"You know, if this jacket wasn't so ugly I'd reconsider my plan to burn it in the parking lot after school." She stuck her hands in the pockets and pulled it closer around her, as if she was oblivious to everyone's attention. "It's actually kind of comfortable."

"But it must reek of Berry," Santana sneered. "I don't know how you can stand to be that close to it."

That caused a moment's hesitation, her brain faltered, unable to grasp why anyone wouldn't _want_to be this close to it. The thought scared her, more than the idea of feeling sick all day and she had to get away from it.

"Actually you have a point."

In a fast movement she pulled down on the zipper, ready to shrug it from her shoulders in time to dump in the trash can they were approaching, but it was like a trigger – just the intention of removing the jacket was enough to make her feel queasy and she could feel bile surging like a wave across the top of her stomach. She was caught between the two desires, hands gripping tightly to the sides of the hoodie while she clenched her jaw and tried to close her throat.

The baby won – or was it Rachel? – because the hoodie remained on as they passed the trash can and walked into class. Santana was eyeing her warily as they took their seats.

"What? I said you had a point, but that doesn't stop me from being cold." Quinn glared mildly and then relaxed into a smirk. "Did I tell you I managed to get her a lunch detention too?"

Santana's face lit up. "No way! How?"

She grinned as she made something up. Loving how Santana lapped it up, not doubting her for a second now, because picking on Berry had her back in her natural element. Her life might be beyond screwed right now but it was still good to be Quinn Fabray.

* * *

><p>By the start of lunch, news had spread and now everyone knew that Quinn had forced Rachel to give up her jacket, leaving the other girl not only shivering with cold but traumatized too. Yet another rumor was circulating about how Quinn had made Rachel cry in class and, how when she'd tried to run away in tears, Laxforth had shouted at her and given her detention.<p>

Anyone who had been in the class with them could have, with a little thought, explained that these rumors weren't entirely true, but they were all too quick to take Quinn's side over Rachel Berry's and she wasn't about to correct them.

The salad under the hot lamps was wilting and going brown – what moron put salad under hot lamps? – and Quinn had demanded that one be made fresh for her. It was a tricky situation because the lunch ladies knew that Cheerios weren't meant to eat regular food from the cafeteria – Coach Sylvester had them on a strict protein shake diet – but she and Santana and Brittany had had them cowed for the last year and a simple glare was enough to have one of the women scurrying off to do her bidding.

While she was waiting, Berry joined her at the end of the lunch line and Quinn groaned.

"Don't worry, I'm just here to purchase food," Rachel said, her voice lackluster.

"So do it," she insisted.

"It takes them a few minutes to prepare my dish. I'm happy to wait in silence."

At least one minute of tense silence passed before Quinn rolled her eyes, "If you're angry just spit it out already."

"I have nothing to _spit out_. I completely understand why you felt the need to lie. I admit I am a little upset that you took the fact that I have a _detention_because of you and used it for your personal gain but it's not as if I expected anything less."

Quinn bristled at her tone. "Talking of detention, shouldn't you be there right now instead of bothering me?"

"I was informed that I had ten minutes to eat before I was required to be there."

At least five minutes of that must have already gone. Quinn looked away, because she wasn't going to feel guilty.

Their meals arrived at the same time and as they picked up their trays, she asked, "Why aren't you angry?"

"Because when all is said and done, _you're_ still wearing _my_hoodie."

"Not through choice! Did you get my handkerchiefs from your locker?"

Rachel walked off, throwing a "No!" over her shoulder.

"Bitch!" she hissed under her breath as she walked in the other direction towards the Cheerios table.

* * *

><p>Rachel was at her locker between fifth and sixth period, hastily switching books, when Finn found her. He stood beside her and she looked up, and up, to see his uncomfortable smile.<p>

"Are you okay?" she asked automatically.

"Yeah, I just . . . I wanted to apologize again."

She ducked her head back to locker so he couldn't see her face. "What about?"

"This morning. I felt like I'd been rude or something afterwards and I don't want you to think I don't like you or anything."

Rachel grabbed her book, sighed, and pulled her head out of her locker to look up at him again. "Did you mean everything you said?"

He nodded awkwardly.

"Then you have nothing to apologize for, Finn."

"I sort of feel I do. Quinn got kinda mad about what happened and she's been saying nasty stuff about you. I feel responsible."

Rachel almost laughed because while his concern was sweet he really had no idea about what had happened.

"It's fine." She took a few steps out into the busy hallway; she didn't want to be late for class. People brushed by her as they walked past but she ignored them to look back at him. "I can handle Quinn."

"I . . . don't think that's true," he admitted. "No offence, but Quinn would eat you up like a breakfast burrito."

_If only. _The thought was fleeting and Rachel felt mortified the second it crossed her mind. She took another few steps away from him but didn't turn away.

"Honestly, if you meant what you said about loving her, Quinn has nothing to worry about. I respect your relationship and I . . ." Her eyes went wide as she saw Karofsky heading towards her, large cardboard cup in hand and grinning meanly. ". . . am about to get slushied!" she squeaked, already closing her eyes tight.

"What the hell, Manhands!" That wasn't Karofsky and he wasn't close enough yet to push her from the side, sending her three feet across the floor until her shoulder crashed into the lockers. "I told you to . . ."

Her eyes popped open at exactly the right time. The slushie was airborne, flying into the space she had been just a second before. The space Quinn now occupied. The head cheerleader took the slushie to the side of the head and even though most of it splattered off of her, her face was _drenched_in the red drink.

Quinn gasped at the icy shock and Rachel clenched a hand over her mouth to hide her nervous laughter.

Even Karofsky looked shocked by his actions and several of his goons stepped away from him. "I was aiming for that," he insisted, pointing at Rachel.

"Dude, you just slushied my _girlfriend_!" Finn threw a punch that missed by an inch but then the two were tussling in the hallway.

Rachel could hear laughter all around them, because as popular as Quinn might have been apparently everyone enjoyed seeing the cheerleading queen brought down a peg or two. That was enough to curb Rachel's own laughter and as Quinn scrubbed ice from her face, threw it to the ground, and then ran away, Rachel went to follow.

"Where do you think you're going, Stubbles?" It was Santana blocking her path.

Rachel barely registered her as she knocked her out of the way with her shoulder and started to run. That was going to cost her later! She reached the girls locker room only seconds after Quinn did but as she was about to follow through, Quinn turned and thrust an open palm at her chest, keeping her at bay.

"Like I'm gonna let you in here with me, Lesbo!" she snapped and the door slammed shut in her face.

A second later she heard the lock engage.

Rachel sighed at the inaccurate and, in her view, ineffective insult and then stepped back up to the door to call through it.

"I'm going to go and get the handkerchiefs because that jacket will smell of cherry slushie now."

There was a pause before Quinn said, "You need to go to sixth period before you get another detention because of me."

"I'm going to go and get the handkerchiefs now," she repeated. "I'll leave them outside the door."

* * *

><p>Quinn sat on a bench in the locker room and waited. About eight minutes later she heard footsteps outside, they were accompanied by some scuffing sounds and an almost inaudible "That should be okay."<p>

"You can come in if you want," she called, ready to unlock the door.

There were a few beats of silence, which seemed to stretch on for several minutes, before she heard footsteps retreating.

With a sigh, Quinn went to the door, unlocked it and cautiously peered outside. The box of handkerchiefs was nestled in the rack of hockey sticks opposite, unnoticeable unless you were grabbing one of the sticks or actually looking for the box.

Quinn snatched them up before ducking back inside the locker room. Even now she had them it was a few minutes before she could talk herself into losing the slushie-stained hoodie and heading into the showers.

* * *

><p>Glee that afternoon was almost unbearable and Quinn wished she'd just skipped it again. If she'd thought the losers whispering out in the hall were bad, the losers in Glee were even worse. She interrupted a hushed conversation between Mercedes, Kurt and Tina when she walked into the choir room; they all clammed up immediately but shot her triumphant little smirks. It was disconcerting at first – did Rachel have some kind of vengeance planned and they were in on it? Pathetic as they all were she didn't want the whole of Glee Club going Revenge of the Geeks on her – but then Artie held his hand up for a high five and she got it: they were all on <em>her<em>side!

She ignored Artie, all of them in fact, but they continued to shoot her grateful or congratulatory smiles, like she was their champion, as if humiliating Rachel for the heck of it somehow made their lives so much better.

Santana and Puck were just as bad, although not as subtle. While Puck was regaling Matt with the completely fabricated way in which Quinn had caused Berry's detention – and seriously, Matt must have been the only person in the school not to already have heard it – Santana was calmly – menacingly calmly – telling the girl all of the ways she was going to repay her for getting Quinn slushied. Finn was the only one who didn't think she was a hero, and it was obvious in his perma-frown, but it wasn't enough to make him go and sit with the other girl.

Rachel, sitting at the other end of the risers with three chairs between her and the closest other kid, stared into the middle distance as if she was managing to completely block them out. Her expression looked serene but Quinn could see her hands in her lap clenching into such tight fists that her top knuckles stood out white and prominent.

She looked two steps from explosion and Quinn began to worry. How much more of this would she take before she threw her to the wolves to save herself? If she blurted out about the baby now Rachel was certain of a reprieve while Quinn became the centre of probably just as much hostile attention. And why would Rachel take this much crap just to protect her secret? Quinn couldn't remember doing anything to earn it at least and if the tables were turned Quinn would have opened her mouth as soon as the first snide look had come her way – actually she would never have kept the secret for her in the first place.

She knew she should do something to diffuse the situation – not tell the truth obviously, because then everyone would just ask why she had lied in the first place, but she could tell everyone to leave Berry alone for five damn minutes. And then . . . they'd ask why.

'_Because she's _my_ plaything right now and I don't want to share.'_Quinn frowned, that answer definitely needed work before she said it out loud.

Rachel surprised her and didn't break, not even when Santana said she was going to lock her in the dumpster behind the kitchens so that the rats would eat her overnight. She opened her mouth to speak up only once.

"I'm sure Quinn is perfectly capable of taking her own revenge so why trouble yourself?"

"Oh, I'm sure too that Q is gonna be kicking your ass soon, but that doesn't mean I don't want in on the fun."

Rachel sighed and went back to staring at nothing and Quinn was so happy that Mr. Schue walked in a minute later that she could have hugged him.

Until he said, "Okay, you all made a valiant effort on Friday, so I think we should use today to build on it. Let's run through the dance steps again."

"No!"

He zeroed in on her and she could feel the eyes of everyone else burning her skin from all sides – although a quick glance out the corner of her eye proved Berry was still staring straight ahead. She hadn't meant to say that out loud, or so vehemently.

"Sorry, Quinn?" She couldn't tell if Mr. Schue was concerned or irritated.

"Nothing."

"Ohhh-kay then, everybody get into your places."

She waited until nearly everyone was on the floor before dragging herself from her chair and taking her spot between Puck and Finn.

"This is going to be a disaster."

Tina was walking past to take her own place and overheard her mutter. "Maybe it won't be so b-b-bad today."

Mercedes rolled her eyes good-naturedly, "Easy for you to say, Girl, you get to go first and set the pace."

"The music sets the pace," Rachel said from the back of the line but her heart didn't really sound in it.

At least Quinn wasn't the only one feeling dread.

"Not until we get good!" Santana pointed out. "Until then I'm the one eating her hair 'cause she can't move her ass fast enough."

Mercedes glared like she wanted to bite back but didn't quite have the guts to stand up to Santana – after all, she was no Rachel Berry. Quinn didn't like that she was suddenly thinking every thought in a way that related to that girl.

"Maybe it would help if the girls just went through one at a time to start with," Finn suggested. "That way they wouldn't be tripping over each other or worrying about getting behind. It might help it sink in a little better."

She hated it when Finn used his brain. She could see Mr. Schue about to nod at the idea, a proud smile on his face that always showed up when Finn was showing his leadership potential. Quinn didn't want that; one at a time just gave her more time to think about what was coming and would make it more obvious if something weird happened like last Friday.

"No, let's just try it altogether – or else we'll never get the timing right – but why don't we switch the order. Go Tina, Santana, Mercedes, Manhands instead?" The nickname was out before she'd realized it but she couldn't be entirely sure she wouldn't have used it consciously anyway. "And see how that works."

"Yes, let's try that," Rachel nodded and suddenly gestured towards her with a flourish, making Quinn step back warily "And before we start, can we just take a moment to reflect on how positively _stunning _Quinn looks in my hooded sweater? Don't you all agree that the delicate shades of green _argyle _really bring out the color of her eyes?"

Point to Berry.

When everyone, well the girls and Kurt anyway, turned to assess the truth in Rachel's statement, Quinn knew all she could do was take it on the chin . . . and then strangle Berry with the damn hoodie sleeves the second she could get her alone.

"You're right," Kurt drawled and Rachel beamed triumphantly. "She really does pull it off much better than you."

"Oh, that's," her face fell as it was Quinn's turn to smile victoriously, "that's not _quite _what I was saying but . . ."

Quinn bit down on her tongue to keep from laughing at the girl's cute, crestfallen face – cute like a wet kitten! Not like a . . . a _girl_– and winked. She had no idea what she was trying to achieve, but Berry apparently running out of air mid-sentence and looking sharply away with a blush was as good a result as any.

Point to Fabray.

"Okay." Mr. Schue came back from discussing the music arrangement with the piano man and waved for Mercedes and Santana to switch places. "Right, let's take it from the top."

Quinn went through the motions, which luckily was all she had to do. She twirled Tina, which was awkward because they were right up in each other's personal space – and while she could objectively see that the choreography would be striking if they ever got it right, she didn't even get this close up and cozy when slow-dancing with Finn. Santana's timing was perfect and Quinn was twirling her before she'd realized she'd let go of Tina's hand, and it was way less awkward because they were friends and Santana bared her teeth in a grin while they spun together and it made her laugh. Mercedes, obviously having something to prove, was only half a step out. Unfortunately that half a step landed on Quinn's toes as she twirled her around. Mercedes' eyes went wide like she expected her to produce a slushie from thin air and dump it on her head, but Quinn just smirked and continued and the rest of their dance went flawlessly.

Quinn wanted to hold on and keep spinning around with her for the rest of the session because she knew what was coming next and it took a real effort of will to release with her left hand and reach out with her right. She had her eyes closed, hoping that would help, and was berating herself over and over for even caring about this. It was just a damn dance routine, it meant _nothing! _But her whole body was tingling in an unpleasant way as she waited for the contact.

It never came. What the Hell? Berry was a lot of things but out of step was never one of them. Her eyes popped open. Rachel had obviously moved forward across the room as she was supposed to but had stopped just feet shy of Puck, who was holding his hands out to her impatiently. She was biting her lip, looking at Puck's hands and not moving. Everyone was staring at her.

"Is everything okay, Rachel?" Okay now Mr. Schue definitely sounded irritated.

Rachel's head snapped to him and she smiled – it looked forced. "Yes, I apologize for my untimeliness, but I need to go to the bathroom."

He nodded his head towards the door with a sigh and she scampered off. She really did _scamper._Quinn rolled her eyes and stopped watching her leave.

"The rest of you guys, that was awesome. I think once we perfect it we'll be able to take Sectionals just on this routine alone."

Yeah, if they ever perfected it. With the way things were going, Quinn found that unlikely.

* * *

><p>Rachel stayed in the bathroom for as long as she deemed was acceptable before slowly making her way back to the Choir room. A glance at her watch told her she still had over an hour to endure. This was a nightmare! Glee was the highlight of her life and now she wanted to hide from it all because of one stupid dance. What was even the big deal anyway? So she had to join hands and dance close to Quinn Fabray, so <em>what<em>? It was for the sake of the music, for the sake of winning at Sectionals, and that should totally overrule anything else. She was a professional! She could do this!

But that didn't stop her feet from dragging as she walked through the door and saw they were setting up to go again. She couldn't use the same excuse twice and couldn't think of another one. Maybe Quinn would because she seemed just as against this happening as she was.

"Okay, ready, Rachel?"

"Yes, sorry about that. I had two vitamin waters at lunch and obviously that must have been too much for my . . ."

"Too much information, freakshow," Santana curtly cut her off.

"Here here," Kurt agreed.

"Jeez, give her a break, guys!" Every eye turned to Mike and none were more surprised than Rachel's although they all gave her a run for her money. He shrugged. "What? It's getting boring."

Rachel was even more surprised when Quinn nodded, "He's right. We're here to sing and dance. Pick on Berry on your own time and stop wasting mine."

Now Quinn was under scrutiny but she just glared at the likes of Puck and Kurt and Mercedes until they all shrugged and looked away. Rachel noticed she avoided looking at Santana who looked just as shocked as Rachel by her speaking up.

"They're right. Rachel, are you ready to try it again?"

"Of course, Mr. Schuester." Rachel took her place, her steps more assured than she felt. "Let's take it from the top."

_'Think about Finn, think about Finn, think about Finn. Just barrel straight through the thing with Quinn and you'll be in Finn's arms. That makes it all worth it. Just think about Finn.'_

She timed her walk up behind Mercedes and as soon as Puck let go of her stepped in to take his hands herself. She could do this. They spun in a circle together.

'_Think about Finn, think about Finn!'_

Turn, turn. This was it. '_Think about Finn!_' Their hands met. Electricity! Just as strong as before. Quinn stiffened at the contact and Rachel felt like a robot – her moves jerky and uncoordinated – but they made it through the initial twirl. She had to put her arm around Quinn's neck now. She faltered and they were behind, Mercedes was already with Brittany, but she tried to power through.

Her right arm was coming around – not at all smoothly – to curl around Quinn's shoulders when the cheerleader yanked away and pushed her, sending her stumbling back.

"What did I do?" Her confusion was echoed by Mr. Schue.

"You stood on my foot, bitch! And it freaking hurt, okay?"

"No I didn't!"

She really hadn't. For one, she knew her rhythm was too good for that, and for two, surely she'd have felt it.

"Are you calling me a _liar_, Stubbles?"

Yes! She couldn't deny she was thankful for the reprieve though. "No, I'm not. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to stand on your foot, Quinn."

Quinn nodded at her tersely, accepting her apology with bad grace.

Rachel heard Mercedes mutter smugly to Tina, "She didn't fly off at _me _for standing on her foot."

Quinn heard too and bit her lip for a second. "Let's just try it again."

Rachel groaned inwardly but went back to her starting spot.

* * *

><p>Quinn was on autopilot now as she danced with Tina, Santana and Mercedes, focused on only one thing, getting through this evil routine with Berry at least once.<p>

She'd almost had it the last time, keeping her mind shut down to the fact it was Rachel she was dancing with and instead picturing her as Wendy, the head cheerleader her freshman year, the one whose shoes she'd filled, who was also a brunette and not much taller than Rachel, and while she had certainly never had any feelings for her other than admiration . . . the admiration had been _strong_.

It had worked right up until Berry was facing her, arm about to curl around her neck, and then the truth of the situation had come slamming back and she'd acted instinctively.

Now she had to do it all over again but she changed her strategy this time.

_'It is Berry, it's okay it's Berry, it's just thirty seconds out of my life. Shower in bleach when Glee is over and it'll be like it never even happened.'_

Quinn was counting down in her head. Five . . . four . . . three . . . another two Mississippi's passed and Rachel's palm was against hers. Their hands clasped and Rachel's hand was so small and warm and soft that the contact caused a warm shiver to run pleasantly down her spine and forced her to smile, on the inside at least. She twirled her and for the first time it was smooth and perfect. She could do this. Or at least she could fake it, she decided, as she tensed, knowing Rachel's arm was about to wrap around her shoulders.

She breathed through the anxiety, willing her body to relax enough to make this look seamless, but the arm never landed. A hand did instead; clutching her shoulder painfully tight as Rachel thrust herself away, breaking the contact between their hands at the same time.

For the third or fourth time the piano stuttered to a stop and everyone was looking at them again.

"Sorry," Rachel said with forced brightness, looking at Mr. Schue rather than her. "My cell phone is vibrating in my pocket and I'm expecting a call from my Daddy. I'll be back."

As she rushed from the room apparently Quinn was the only one who realized she didn't have pockets in either her skirt or her t-shirt.

Mr. Schue sighed, "Okay, we don't have much time left. We'll pick the routine back up tomorrow. Let's just run through the song instead."

"Is it worth it without Rachel?" she found herself asking. She really didn't mean to.

"Yes. You can take lead for now Quinn."

Finally a silver lining!

* * *

><p>Rachel deliberately stayed outside the room for ten minutes and when she came back in <em>Quinn<em>was singing her share of the lyrics with Finn. She wanted to launch into a tirade about how unfair that was but found herself standing by the door and just listening instead. Quinn really did have a pretty voice when she put her mind to it.

By the time the song was over, Mr. Schuester was calling the meeting to an end and everyone trailed out of the room as if they didn't even notice she was standing in the doorway.

Sighing, she went to grab her bag.

"Rachel?"

"Yes, Mr. Schue?"

He smiled a little before looking serious again. "Rachel, is everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"You've been really distracted for over a week now and you're usually so focused that I can't help thinking something is wrong. This is normally the kind of song you love and you always seem up to the challenge of any choreography and yet you've been distant and uncooperative since we started rehearsing this number."

Rachel looked at her feet. "I'm fine."

"If there's something you wanted to talk to me about . . . or maybe I could schedule you an appointment with Miss Pillsbury."

Rachel wanted to spill all, she nearly did, but Quinn wouldn't be happy with her sharing either of their secrets; both of which were laying heavily on her mind.

"I'm fine, Mr. Schuester. I just have a few . . . _personal_issues that I'm dealing with. I promise to get it together before tomorrow's rehearsal."

"Okay, well if you need someone to talk to . . . I know some of the kids aren't always that friendly but trust me when I say they're dealing with all the same problems you are."

"So you're saying their antagonism is a result of their own insecurities?"

"I guess I am."

"That makes me feel better," Rachel deadpanned.

"Well, like I said, if you need someone to talk to . . . " He gave her a sympathetic smile before picking up his satchel and leaving the room.

She meandered to her chair, thinking about the session and everything that had gone wrong with it – and _why _it had gone wrong. She'd promised to fix it by tomorrow but she had no idea how to do that.

Someone entered the room behind her and she froze for a second thinking it might be Quinn, even though the footsteps were too heavy.

"Oh, hi, you're here."

Rachel turned to Mike, who had stalled by the piano. "You sound both surprised and yet not."

"The guys were kind of rough on you today."

"I'm used to it," she smiled without an ounce of self pity. "It's okay."

Mike nodded, taking a step closer but keeping the piano a barrier between them.

"So I was wondering . . . are you free later?"

Rachel beamed but it soon melted into a shy smile. "I'll have to check my date-diary but I think I am."

Mike smiled back, "Cool, 'cause there was something I wanted to ask you."

* * *

><p>"Oh, sweet Mary and fricken Jesus. It's back!" Santana groaned while they were on a five minute break from practice.<p>

"What?" Quinn was focused on trying not to pant out loud. After she'd exerted herself in Glee with all the spinning and twirling – and emotional angst – Cheerios training on top of that was nearly killing her. And it burned that Santana and Brittany were taking it in stride even though she knew she had extenuating circumstances.

"Manhands," Brittany said simply, not even looking in the direction of the bleachers.

Quinn's head snapped up and found the girl immediately. It was actually a nice day so there were other people sitting up there too – girls waiting for the boyfriends on the football team, guys waiting for the cheerleading girlfriends – but Berry was conspicuous because she sat alone, at one end of the bleachers bent over a note book once more.

She groaned; she was going to _kill _her. Hadn't she told her this was unacceptable? What was the girl _thinking_?

Turning away, she muttered, "She's probably here to watch Finn again."

"Finn's not out there," Santana pointed out and Quinn belatedly remembered he had a dentist appointment.

Brittany smiled, "Maybe she has a crush on one of us?"

"What?" Okay, that had come out way louder than she'd meant it too.

"One of the Cheerios," Brittany explained. "She does keep watching us. Maybe it's me. She seems the type to like blondes."

Quinn was trying to choke on her spit quietly and Santana suddenly narrowing her eyes and cocking her head to the side wasn't helping. She guzzled from her bottle of water for a few seconds and wiped the dribbles from her chin.

"I'd believe that if she wasn't drooling over Finn twenty-four-seven."

"Actually I think Brit has a point."

She schooled her expression of unease into something amiable. "How so?"

"She's been hanging 'round you _a lot_recently, Q."

She shrugged at Santana, "I already told you why."

"What if she's lying? What if she _likes _you?" Santana was both amused and horrified by the idea. Quinn could relate. "What if she wants to get her girly-kisses on with you?"

Quinn's expression grew cool with just the right amount of disgust, she hoped. "Then she'll be in for a rude awakening. There's no way though." Quinn chuckled, "She _hates_ me, I've made her life hell. Even Berry isn't delusional enough to suddenly fall for me because I was nice to her _one _time."

"_When _were you nice to her?"

"There's a fine line between love and hate, Quinn," Brittany told her solemnly. "Trust me, I've seen it. It's purple. You know, because love is red and hate is black and when they touch in the middle its all purple and stuff."

Quinn didn't know which one of them to respond to, so . . . "Coach wants us back on the field. Let's go."

As Santana and Brittany ran back to practice, Quinn looked over at Berry again. She didn't look back.

That really shouldn't have been so . . . purple.

* * *

><p><em>Happy Holidays! Thanks for reading and for the reviews, you guys rock :)<em>


	11. Will I Ever Know her Sweet 'Hello?

Thank you for all the reviews, you guys are awesome :)

**Chaper Ten: **

**Will I Ever Know her Sweet 'Hello'?**

"Hey!"

Rachel had only just left her Dad's car, there was no way she could have offended anyone this mornng yet, but that definitely hadn't been a conversational 'hey' shouted from behind her.

She stopped and turned around in the middle of the broad walkway heading to the school's entrance, watching her Dad's car merge into traffic as Quinn approached her from the parking lot. She didn't stop to talk, but hissed, "Follow me!" as she walked past her.

Rachel waited a beat before complying. She followed her all the way around the school – at a twelve foot difference that she thought the blonde would appreciate – until they neared the dumpsters at the back of the kitchens. And then she stopped.

"If you think I'm going to willingly let you toss me into a dumpster, you are mistaken."

Quinn looked over her shoulder and growled, "If you don't keep up I _will_ do that."

Once Quinn had passed the smelly food waste area, Rachel speed-walked to catch up. "Where are we going?"

Quinn didn't answer, but now they were _right_ at the back of the school. The only thing between them and open fields was a rarely used maintenance work shop and a chain link fence. Quinn walked behind the work shop and Rachel tentatively followed.

"I really must insist . . ."

Quinn turned to her as soon as they were sheltered from sight. "What the hell were you thinking yesterday?"

"In Glee? You were just as uncomfortable as I was!"

"No, _after_ Glee! Showing up to watch Cheerios practice like that? I distinctly remember telling you _not_ to do that! Brittany's cottoned on and now Santana is on my ass because she thinks you _like_ me."

"I don't like you!" Rachel said automatically.

"Yeah, well, whether I believe you or not is really a non-issue now that San thinks she knows. I can't have this, Rachel! My life's going to go down the drain fast enough when I start showing, I can't have the stigma of you liking me too."

Huffing in frustration, she spelled it out slowly, "I . . . never said . . . I _liked_ you!"

Quinn nodded and gave her an encouraging grin. "Good, keep saying it just like that and we'll be okay."

Rachel looked around helplessly, wishing there was someone there to explain what the heck was going on right now.

"Okay, Santana's like a dog with a bone over this kind of thing but I have a way to throw her off."

Rachel shrugged, she might as well play along. "And that is?"

Quinn took a deep breath. "Okay, I admit this is going to build you up and tear you down at the same time but hear me out."

Rachel nodded.

"I give you full permission to come on to Finn tomorrow. Be as blatant as you want."

Rachel smiled, "And what's the downside to your plan?"

"I'll have to kick your ass afterwards."

"I see."

"I'll keep it verbal . . . maybe just a little bit of pushing."

"Well, while I appreciate your generosity, I'm going to have to decline. I wouldn't want to make Mike jealous by flirting with Finn."

"Excuse me?"

"You haven't heard? That's surprising, but yes, I wasn't waiting for you yesterday, I was waiting for Mike to finish football practice."

"Why?"

Rachel smiled. "He found me after Glee yesterday. There is a particular dance routine he wants to try and it's outside of his usual range. So, knowing that I am trained in many genres, he came to me for advice."

Quinn was gaping at her.

"I'm sure he meant for it to be just a school based activity, but after talking for a while he asked me if I would like to go to Breadstix after he had completed his day's football training, to converse about it some more."

"And you _went_?"

"It was a very pleasant evening."

It took Quinn a moment to find her words. "Okay, good. That is . . . _good_. I'm still going to have to kick your ass though." She shrugged in a _C'est la vie _way and was about to leave.

"Quinn, wait." Rachel remembered her promise to Mr. Schue, not that she'd forgotten it really, because she'd been worrying about it all night. "We have to figure out a way to be comfortable dancing together. Another rehearsal like yesterday and people _will _start to suspect something untoward, however untrue it actually is."

Quinn shrugged again, "There's nothing for me to figure out. I felt like an imbecile yesterday when I kept stopping the dance and I'm not doing that again . . . so _I'll _dance with _you_, Berry, without complaint." Her smile turned cold. "But if _you _so much as lay a finger on _me_, your ass-kicking won't be so verbal after all."

"But how do I not mess up the routine if I'm not allowed to touch you?"

"That's for _you _to figure out. Stay here for ten minutes; I don't want anyone to see us together."

Rachel felt like stamping her foot. "I'll miss the bell!"

"Not my problem."

After Quinn was gone, Rachel did stamp her foot.

* * *

><p>Quinn only saw Rachel once through school; lunch was just ending and they were both getting books for their afternoon classes. Why did their lockers have to be only six feet from each other? Why did their lockers even have to be in the same hall?<p>

Santana and Brittany were standing with her, and she swore to God that if Berry looked over even once she was separating her stupid head from her midget clown body right here in front of everyone. Maybe Rachel was psychic because she kept her face almost inside her locker.

"So we on for Puck's Friday night?" Santana was asking.

While Brittany gushed with how much fun it was going to be, Quinn merely nodded. She wasn't as in to parties as she had been before the stick turned pink, especially parties at Puck's. It wasn't like she'd been a major drinker before or anything, one or two wine coolers had always been enough to get her merry without making her stupid (obviously _three_ had had a different result), but she couldn't even have that many now and the idea of not only being the only sober kid there, but also people asking her why she was the only sober kid there, had no appeal.

She couldn't not go though. She was head cheerleader and the most popular girl in school. If she didn't attend the social event of the week people would ask questions about that too. Not to mention, with her best friends already thinking what they were thinking, she had to quell any rumors that might get started. She had no choice but to spend the night wrapped around Finn.

As Santana and Brittany continued to discuss the party, Quinn smiled to herself. An evening wrapped around Finn wouldn't be so bad; because of her morning sickness they'd barely spent any time together out of school over the last couple of weeks and when they had she'd felt too queasy to enjoy it. She was still suffering, she'd had to dash to the bathroom twice today already, but at least now she had a cure for the constant nausea in-between the bouts of throwing up.

She'd have to bring in the used handkerchiefs tomorrow instead of Friday so that Rachel had a chance to wash them _before _the weekend started this time. Speaking of Rachel, what was _he _doing _there_?

She tuned her friends out completely to eavesdrop on the conversation a few lockers down.

"So I think I found the perfect song. It's the right kind of mellow but the bassline is just awesome."

"That sounds great, Mike. Do you have it on your iPod? I'd like to listen to it a few times to get a feel for it myself."

"Yeah, I downloaded it last night. Here." Mike reached into his rucksack.

"Oh, I didn't mean right now. We have class after all."

"That's okay." Mike pressed the dial of his iPod a few times before handing it over. "It's this one. Take it with you and listen when you get a chance. You can just give it back to me in Glee."

"Oh, okay."

Why did she look disappointed? He was giving her his iPod for two periods! Finn got funny about letting her have his controller for a game of Mario Kart.

"There's no football practice tonight, so maybe after rehearsal we can start working on it."

"Oh, okay."

Why did she look so happy? He only wanted her help to practice a dance! It wasn't a date.

"So, Q, get your people to call my people tonight."

He wasn't even her type.

"I _said_, get your pe . . ."

"I heard you. It'll have to be after nine. My parents have their church group tonight. Will that be too late?"

"Hardly, my parents wouldn't even be home from work before then. You ready to roll to class?"

"Yes." Quinn shut her locker and started to walk, Santana and Brittany falling into step with practiced ease.

As they passed down the row of lockers, Brittany called. "Hey, Mike, are you going to Puck's Friday too?"

Even before he could form the 'yes' Quinn's head was snapping to him. "Just remember there's a strict date code for this party."

He pulled his bag higher on his shoulder, brow wrinkling in confusion. "There is?"

"Yeah, anyone but _that_."

She pointed her finger at Rachel without breaking stride and this time she accepted Santana's high-five.

* * *

><p>Rachel arrived at the Choir room nearly thirty minutes late, which was actually an achievement considering she had planned on not going to Glee at all.<p>

Honestly, she could see no way to abide by Quinn's wishes without disrupting Mr. Schuester's routine and because she'd run out of new ways to protest against it, it had to be better just to drop out of the club altogether. It wasn't like everyone wouldn't be glad to see the back of her anyway and she didn't need Glee to achieve her goals. The buzz in the corridors was that Mr. Ryerson was coming back to produce a school musical. Hopefully he would look past the fact that she was the cause of his being fired and would allow her to audition for the lead.

She'd had to wait in school though to give Mike back his iPod and to tell him she thought the song he'd picked was perfect and that she was happy to start work on it as soon as possible. But she'd chosen to wait in a classroom too close to the Choir room and the music and singing and laughing had eventually drawn her in.

Nothing stopped when she entered the room, but Mr. Schuester looked over his shoulder.

"Oh, hey, Rachel. Get everything sorted?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Quinn explained you had to go and see Mr. Laxforth about an extra credit assignment."

Quinn's face remained impassive but Santana's eyes cut to the head cheerleader. Obviously Quinn hadn't given her an excuse in front of everyone. She was probably regretting giving her one at all now that Mr. Schue had blurted it out.

"Yes, thank you, everything is _sorted_."

"Okay, now that Rachel's here, let's head to the auditorium so we can really practice this routine!"

Rachel groaned, out loud. She was probably the only one who saw Quinn's lips twitch, smirk-like, in response.

She walked beside Mike to the auditorium, Matt on the other side of him acting like his best friend walking with the school outcast wasn't anything weird.

She handed him back his iPod. "That song really is perfect. There's quite a contrast between the beat and the melody though. Are you sure you want to start with something so complicated."

He grinned, "I can do it."

She smiled back, "I think you can too."

Walking behind them with Finn, Quinn fake-gagged.

"Uh, are you okay? Do you need to be sick again?"

She glared at her boyfriend to shut up. He looked confused but still concerned for her. And great, Rachel had heard him and was turning around, equally as concerned. Any second now she was going to offer her sleeve. She would _punch_ her if she did! Quinn glared at her too – daring her to say anything because . . . damnit it would just feel good to hit her right now.

Rachel's expression quickly went from concerned to bored though, as if she'd assumed Finn was talking to someone else – y_eah, right – _and then she turned back to speaking with Mike.

Quinn resisted the urge to kick her in the back of her knee.

* * *

><p>The routine was under way.<p>

"Rachel! You only turn twice on your own. You have to take Quinn's hand so she can twirl you."

"Sorry, Mr. Schuester, I got confused."

"Okay, let's take it from the top."

* * *

><p>"That's it, that's it, perfect Mercedes, you're well within time now."<p>

"Thanks, Mr. Schue."

"Rachel, you're only supposed to turn with Puck once! You should be with Quinn by now!"

"Sorry, Puck just has such nice soft hands."

"No, I don't!"

"Actually you do," Mercedes narrowed her eyes at him. "What's up with that?"

Puck shrugged sheepishly. "Must be all the chlorine."

"Okay, guys, let's try it again."

* * *

><p>"Great, well done, Tina, now . . . that's it, three steps to the left, spin, perfect Mike. You're all doing great. Awesome, Santana! Yes, yes . . . Rachel! You can't go straight from Puck to Finn!"<p>

"I didn't mean to. Puck spun me too hard!"

"You wish!"

"Okay, again!"

"I swear to God, Stubbles, you fuck up one more time I'm going to shove your tiny dwarf body into your locker for the night!"

"I'll help."

"Santana, Kurt, it's a difficult routine," Mr. Schuester tried to placate them. "Let's just try it again."

* * *

><p>Rachel couldn't mess it up again – and not only because when Santana and Kurt realized she didn't actually fit into her locker she doubted they'd have any trouble cutting her up until she <em>did <em>fit. She couldn't take the humiliation any more. She'd had this routine down since the first time Mr. Schue had run through it, much faster than Tina, Mercedes _or_ Santana, but she'd had no chance to prove it and now they all thought she was a clumsy, uncoordinated buffoon. All except Quinn, who knew exactly what she was doing and was taking every opportunity to laugh at her because of it.

Well, enough. If Quinn felt the need to beat her up for getting it right, she'd take the beating. Her pride would still be better off for it.

She counted herself in. Mercedes was getting overconfident and was a little fast this time but Rachel held back that extra beat so her timing would be perfect. Should she jump into Puck's arms, to prove she had the routine down? No, they hadn't practiced that yet and he would probably drop her in surprise. She spun with him – he really did have soft hands – and then turn, turn, her hand met Quinn's. Electricity! Quinn twirled her, it was smooth, perfect, _awesome_ and then they were face to face and Quinn was smiling at her. It wasn't cold, or cruel, but it wasn't friendly either, it was something else, something entirely unexpected – something like awe, but . . . _hungrier_.

Rachel tried to grab her shoulder as she tripped over her own feet but missed and landed sprawled on her side in front of Finn and Brittany.

"Ow!"

Santana was laughing, actually nearly everyone was laughing, but it was Santana who spoke, "Oh my God, Quinn did you push her over? That's fucking hilarious!"

"Santana, language," Mr. Schuester snapped, stepping forward to help her up when it was obvious no one else was going to. "Rachel, are you okay?"

Quinn held her hands up. "I didn't push her."

Although it was true, her smirk convinced everyone else otherwise.

"I'm fine, thank you, Mr. Schue. And Quinn didn't push me, although I'm sure she wishes she had. I just tripped." On her feet, she dusted herself off. "I think I've had enough for today. In fact I think you should perfect this routine without me, because, for personal reasons, I have to take a . . . take a leave of absence from Glee Club."

"What? Why?" To his credit, Mr. Schuester almost sounded upset.

"As I said, it's personal. Hopefully I'll be able to come back at some point, until then I wish you all the best of luck."

Rachel left the auditorium with her head held high.

* * *

><p>Quinn watched her go until she became aware of Santana watching her watch her.<p>

She rolled her eyes. "She is so selfish! And just trying to get attention. She knows we need her for the competitions."

"Aww, who needs her? We can do fine on our own."

Quinn rolled her eyes again, but internally this time. If Mercedes believed that she was delusional. Sure they all had their strengths, but they all knew Rachel was the real talent among them.

"Shouldn't someone go after her?" Mike asked.

She glared at him, "She's _your_ girlfriend, you go after her."

Flustered when all eyes turned to him, he said, "She's not my girlfriend. We're just working on a dance together."

Quinn shrugged and turned away. "Suit yourself."

* * *

><p>Everyone probably thought she was off somewhere crying, but Rachel was sat outside in the late afternoon sun, waiting for her Dad to pick her up, and smiling.<p>

Oh, she wasn't very happy. Rehearsal had been humiliating for several reasons and she was upset about quitting Glee – but she seriously doubted Quinn's flirtatious smile had been premeditated; if it had been it wouldn't have reached her eyes.

Her eyes had been . . . well, as into it as her smile had been as they'd tucked in close after the twirl. It had been a shock, which was why she had tripped, but Rachel had a painful bruise on her hip to prove she hadn't imagined it.

So, no, she wasn't crying. She was very confused though. And she wasn't going back to Glee until she had vanquished her feelings for the blonde once and for all. Otherwise she'd be insane by the end of the semester.

* * *

><p>After Glee, Mike approached Puck as he was about to get into his truck.<p>

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"What's up?" Puck climbed into the driver's seat but left the door open.

"Your party Friday night, can I bring someone?"

Puck laughed, "I already put it on Facebook, it's gonna be rammed, so bring anyone you like as long as they're a hottie."

Mike looked at the pedals by Puck's feet for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "I was gonna ask Rachel, is that cool?"

Puck blinked a few times, surprised, but then shrugged. "Berry? Yeah, she's hot. Just don't let her talk to me and it's fine."

"Thanks, dude."

* * *

><p>After she'd posted her MySpace video of the night – a haunting rendition of <em>Where Is Love? <em>from the Tony award winning musical Oliver! – Rachel took a shower, changed into her pajamas and had a snack of carrots and celery dip before checking the site again.

She had three comments. She didn't even have to steel herself for it anymore, the defense mechanism came naturally.

She clicked on the first.

**SkySplitz: **Did your Dads use a cat as a surrogate or what? That caterwauling can't be pure human.

Rachel sighed, it wasn't even one of her better ones. The rest were also left by names she recognized as anonymous Cheerios and were even less inventive than Quinn's who at least must have put some thought into it to remember her family set up.

She was about to click the 'X' to close the site when another comment popped up.

**Rachelscrush: !**EelG evael t'nod.

The name alone made her pause, because it was weird, and she couldn't imagine anyone willingly wanting to associate themselves with such a moniker.

After that the nonsense sunk in. Was the commenter Welsh or Gaelic? She didn't know anyone who spoke either. She read the three words over and over without any light being shed.

**RachelBarbraBerry: **I am afraid I don't speak your language, but thank you for the comment.

A few minutes passed before a reply popped up under her own.

**Rachelscrush: **!Toidi ,backward! a er'uoy esuaceb s'that.

Okay, the only word she'd understood in that had been backward. Maybe the commenter was French or Italian.

**RachelBarbraBerry: **I very much appreciate your patronage, but if you do not know how to write in English could you tell me what language you speak so that I can take steps to learn it?

**Rachelscrush:**!Resol a hcus er'uoy.

Shaking her head at the monitor, Rachel took her plate downstairs, rinsed it, and then came back up to wash her face and brush her teeth. By the time she re-entered her bedroom there was another comment.

**Rachelscrush: **Don't you own a damn mirror!

Okay, that was in English.

**RachelBarbraBerry: **Yes.

**Rachelscrush. **Then use it!

She stood automatically just to check her reflection in the full length mirror on the door. She looked perfectly respectable for someone about to go to bed. Obviously her commenter was insane, possibly a foreign pedophile! She should block them right away and then inform the police.

She was going back to the computer to do just that when another message popped up.

**Rachelscrush: **I know you're checking your reflection right now! I meant use a mirror on my messages.

Oh.

Rachel grabbed the compact mirror from her drawer, scrolled up and held it to the screen so that she could see the reflection.

_Don't leave Glee_

_That's because you're a drawkcab idiot!_

_You're such a loser!_

**RachelBarbraBerry: **Quinn, is that you?"

**Rachelscrush: **Delete that accusation right now!

Rachel did so.

A few seconds later . . .

**Rachelscrush: **Thanks. This song is pretty cool btw.

**RachelBarbraBerry: **Thank you. Why did you look at me that way earlier in Glee?

The reply was instantaneous.

**Rachelscrush: **I don't know what you're talking about.

**RachelBarbraBerry: **Ok. Are you still planning to verbally abuse me tomorrow?

**Rachelscrush: **You've left me no choice.

**RachelBarbraBerry: **I find that hard to believe but ok. Why did you pick that user name?

**Rachelscrush: **I enjoy tormenting you. I'm going now and you'd better delete _all_ of this conversation.

**RachelBarbraBerry: **Or else? :)

**Rachelscrush: **It will be no smiling matter for you Berry if you don't.

**RachekBarbraBerry: **Quinn, wait, I . . ."

She stopped typing because she could feel the weight of Quinn's glare through the internet waves or cables, whatever they used. Without being prompted she deleted her comment.

After a few seconds a message flashed up in the corner of her screen telling her **Rachelscrush** had gone off-line.

* * *

><p>The following morning, after wriggling her mouse to shake her PC awake on the way, she came back from the bathroom to find one more new comment.<p>

**Rachelscrush: **I don't want you to quit Glee because of me. But now you have to smash up your computer to hide the evidence.

Smiling, Rachel patted her monitor reassuringly and headed towards her elliptical machine.


	12. It Takes Two to Get Tangled

Hi! Thank you for all the wonderful comments on the last chapter, you guys are awesome :) I was hoping to have this chapter up two days ago, but my internet connection has been sketchy since Saturday due to Virgin doing work in my area. I'm trying to slip this in quick before it goes again!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven:<strong>

**It Takes Two To Get Tangled.**

First period was American Literature again and these days Rachel never knew whether to look forward to it or dread it.

She took her seat beside Quinn but stuck to the rules: she didn't look or speak and obviously she didn't touch.

"I assume your computer is in tiny little pieces now."

She smiled, "No."

"Guess I'll have to swing by later and do it myself then."

She smiled more. "You want to come over?"

"I'll be sure to do so when you're not there."

"Or you could come home with me after school so that you can see the proof for yourself that I have deleted every comment you left, except for the horrible one; and that way you can leave my computer intact."

"Is this you trying to get me to come to your house for dinner or something?" Quinn asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

Rachel paused, assessing her tone, the smirk on her face, and decided it was safe enough to continue. "If you like."

"Don't you have plans with Mike?"

"We haven't made any."

"I have Glee after school anyway." There was a pause. "Do you have Glee after school?"

There was a longer pause while Rachel thought about it. "I don't think so. I just really don't think I can get through this routine and it would appear as though you can't either if I'm involved."

"I was fine yesterday."

"You were looking at me . . . strangely."

"I was forcing myself to think about puppies and kittens to get through it."

"Do you always look at small animals like that?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Mr. Laxforth began the lesson then and there were no further opportunities for conversation.

* * *

><p>The class was drawing to a close, people were talking, chairs were scraping back, at least half of the students were already out of the door.<p>

Quinn sighed as she gathered her books. She'd been trying to talk herself out of this all lesson, and it should have been easy, but she kept coming back to the same thing – she didn't want to be responsible for Rachel quitting Glee.

"Ms. Juliene's out today so we both have study hall fifth period. Meet me behind the maintenance shed instead."

"Why?"

"Just do it, Berry."

* * *

><p>Five minutes after she should have been in study hall Rachel was sneaking to the back of school instead. She felt guilty for missing class, even though she knew <em>she<em> wouldn't be missed, but she'd been too intrigued by what Quinn had in mind to not show up.

It had crossed her mind that this was when the cheerleader was going to 'kick her ass' but she'd dismissed it, because if - or when - that happened, the whole point was for Quinn to have an audience.

When she covertly rounded the workshop the other girl was waiting for her with a CD player.

"Okay, let's get this over with."

"Get what over with?"

Quinn pressed play and the song Mr. Schue was having them dance to played from the small built-in speakers.

"We're here to practice?"

"Until we get it perfect. We have all of fifth period; I'm just hoping it will be enough."

"Won't that be . . . _awkward_, with just the two of us?"

"More awkward than in front of everyone?" Quinn had a point. "It's going to be very awkward, but we're going to do it anyway."

Rachel nodded, "Okay, restart the song."

Quinn did so and then stood with her right hand out, waiting. Rachel counted herself in, then she counted herself in again, and then again.

"We don't have time to wait for your exact cue. Let's just get it over with."

"I wasn't. I was just psyching myself up." Quinn smirked. "Okay, I'm ready."

She counted herself in for real this time and then took a deep breath before turning twice and reaching for Quinn's hand – there was that damn feeling again as soon as there was palm to palm contact! It was intoxicating. Rachel forgot what was supposed to happen next and Quinn was forced to twirl her an extra half a turn before her feet caught in the three inch grass and she nearly went down on her knees.

Quinn kept her upright by their joined hands but yanked hers back as soon as Rachel was steady to scrub her palm on the skirt of her Cheerio's uniform. "Okay, again."

Rachel counted herself in. Turn, turn, contact! And how did it manage to get better each time?

Quinn twirled her _so_ fast before instinctively pulling her hand away that Rachel spun around three times before bouncing off of the chain-link fence.

"Damn, are you okay?"

"Dizzy. The Earth's spinning too fast."

"Congratulations, Berry, I just rocked your world. Not many people can say that."

Rachel laughed, "Quinn, anyone who's ever laid eyes on you can say that."

Brow furrowed and mouth open, it took Quinn a few seconds to respond, "Are you calling me a slut?"

"No. I'm calling you beautiful." The scenery finally stopped rotating. "Okay, again."

Count down. Turn, turn, firm contact, that was good, Quinn's hand felt good, especially when she squeezed back as she raised their arms. It made Rachel's palm hum and shot tingles all the way to . . . to . . . um . . . well, it was fair to say she was feeling Quinn's touch in places it shouldn't be possible to reach just through the connection of their fingertips.

When she pulled her hand away this time it was with a yelp of alarm – because such chemistry just _couldn't _be possible in real life, surely – and Quinn was thrown off balance to stumble back until her hands were braced on the workshop wall behind her.

"Maybe we should wear gloves." Rachel's gaze snapped to her, surprised Quinn was even feeling it, let alone acknowledging it. "That was a joke."

"Many an honest thought has been told in jest."

"You just totally butchered that quote."

"Well, forgive me Quinn, if the fact that I'm going crazy is overshadowing my knowledge of literary quotations."

"You're forgiven. Give me your hand."

"No."

"Manhands, do as your told!"

"Do you have to call me that right now?"

"If it makes you feel better you can pretend I lash out when I'm feeling . . . _unsure_ about something."

"Is that true?"

"I don't know, Treasure Trail, what do you think? Now give me your freaking hand, Rupaul!"

"Okay, that seems like overkill." But Rachel held out her hand, holding her breath at the same time.

How could such a small gesture feel so amazing? Quinn's hand was soft, warm, bigger than hers but not so much as to engulf her own. They fit, that's what it really came down to, they just _fit_. They fit several different ways in fact, and Quinn experimented with shifting her grip first one way and then the other, lastly entwining their fingers and giving hers the slightest squeeze.

"See, it's just holding hands, it's nothing." She didn't really sound like she believed it even as she was saying it.

But Rachel dutifully said back, "Yes, of course it's nothing."

"So I don't know what you've been spazzing about."

"Me neither."

"It's just holding hands," Quinn repeated. "It's fine; nothing to be scared of."

"You're absolutely right. This feels perfectly normal. It's no different to holding hands with my Dad."

"Exactly, or Finn. Not Finn, I meant . . . Brittany."

"Totally, it's like holding hands with my Dad or Brittany, and not like holding hands with Finn or Mike."

"You've held hands with _Mike_?"

"Well, no, but I imagine it would feel _nothing_ like this."

She looked up from their joined hands in time to catch the tail-end of Quinn's smile before she bit her lip against it. Yep, she thought that sentence had come out sounding wrong.

"Okay, now we've proved how _boring _this is, let's try the routine again."

Rachel let go and took her place as Quinn restarted the song.

Turn, turn, their hands clasped – it still didn't feel anything like _boring_! Their patience and sacrifice had paid off though. The twirl was everything it should be, as if they'd perfected it years ago, and Quinn was the perfect height for her too. They were both grinning at how effortless they'd made it look, happy they'd finally gotten it right, until Rachel's arm curled closely around Quinn's shoulders and they froze.

"Crap, I'd forgotten about this part."

Rachel didn't know whether she wanted to giggle or cry. "Me too."

Their faces were inches apart, bodies only separated by their entwined hands between them. They were in the exact position they should be for the next stage of the dance but Rachel wasn't reassured by that.

"What should we do?"

"I don't know, but I don't think I'm comfortable staying like this for five minutes until it gets boring."

"This is _never_ going to get boring," she breathed without thinking and then cursed herself when Quinn let go of her hand and shrugged out from under her arm.

She'd take a vow of silence for a year if she could just have those words back right now.

When Quinn raised her hands to straighten her pony-tail Rachel flinched back. Quinn pretended not to notice. "Okay, let's start from the beginning again."

"Really?"

"Really. But this time we don't stop, we don't think, we don't look at each other. We just dance."

Rachel nodded and skipped the CD back to the start.

The twirl went fine. When it came time to dance together Rachel kept her eyes down and was met with an up-close view of Quinn's extremely tight Cheerio's top. Her feet faltered and she stepped back.

"Berry!"

"Sorry. I need to find a better visual."

"A better visual than what?"

Rachel's gaze gave her away.

Quinn looked down at herself, confused, and then rolled her eyes, blushing even as she smirked. "Good luck with that."

Rachel smirked too. "Okay, Quinn Modest Fabray, I'm going to try your shoulder."

"Be my guest, that's hot too."

Rachel rolled her eyes but as they tried the dance again, it turned out Quinn was right. They got through it though, they _actually_ got all the way through it, and although it felt like a lifetime to Rachel only thirty seconds or so later she was standing at full reach holding Quinn's left hand (which, incidentally, was no more boring than the right hand!).

"We did it!" She thrust their joined hands in the air making Quinn smile. "If this was any other dance I would insist we run through it a few more times until we were sure we were flawless, but I'm hesitant to suggest that in this situation."

Quinn checked her watch. "Fifth period's almost up anyway."

Rachel tried not to sound disappointed and nodded, "Okay."

"We have time for maybe two more run-throughs, three if you keep your eyes up."

Now she was trying not to sound too happy. "Okay." She seemed to be constantly trying to find a balance between the two these days.

Quinn started the CD again.

The first two were passable but the third and final time really was flawless. They were also back to gazing into each other's eyes as they turned to the music. It was un-nerving and exhilarating at the same time.

"Are you thinking about baby animals again right now?" Rachel whispered.

Quinn's eyes seemed to sparkle with _something_ as she murmured back, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

As Rachel was gracefully twirled away she felt like she'd just seen Quinn naked again.

* * *

><p>"You can go first this time. I'll hang here for another ten minutes."<p>

"Are you sure? I don't mind . . ."

"I'm sure." Quinn needed the ten minutes to clear her head anyway. "So you're coming back to Glee this afternoon, right?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Down, Berry." Quinn reached into her bag for the box of handkerchiefs. "Can I ask you . . .? Is there any chance you can wash these by tomorrow?"

"Are you asking me now so that I'll still feel obligated to uphold my promise after you've 'kicked my ass' later?"

She sighed, "I'm not going to physically hit you, or kick you."

In truth she didn't want to go through with her plan at all, but she had to, perhaps now more than ever.

"May I ask what you're going to verbally abuse me over considering I didn't take you up on your kind offer to flirt with Finn?"

"I don't know, something will come to me at the time. I can always rely on you to be super annoying like that."

Quinn smiled when Rachel rolled her eyes. "I'll ask Finn to sing a duet with me in front of Glee and I'll wash your handkerchiefs by tomorrow, but one day I'm going to expect something in return."

"Fine, but I reserve the right to veto if it involves either of us being naked."

"Quinn! I would _never_ ask something like that!" Quinn grinned at how hard she was blushing. "Besides, I have heard it's possible to have sex with your clothes _on_, you know."

Now Rachel was grinning while _she_ blushed, "Vetoed! So, so vetoed!"

Their laughter was soft and it was easier than it ever should be.

"I still don't have a crush on you, just so you know."

"I should probably change my MySpace name then."

"That would be appropriate. Why do you need the handkerchiefs by tomorrow anyway?"

"I want to have a few handy at Puck's. There's nothing more embarrassing than throwing up on the patio when everyone knows you _haven't_ been drinking."

"Oh, the party."

"Yeah. Do you have plans tomorrow night?" Rachel looked up so eagerly that Quinn felt awful about getting her hopes up. Although over what she didn't want to question, it was just a vague feeling . . . honestly. "It's just, I think Mike was going to ask you."

"Oh, I see. That's nice of him. And brave, going against the Queen of McKinley's direct order and all."

"Rachel," Quinn started but stopped with a shake of her head. She wasn't going to apologize. "It means you shouldn't do a duet with Finn though, it would probably piss Mike off."

"That's okay, I don't see Mike and I developing anything other than a working relationship at this point anyway."

"Oh, why's that?"

"He's not really my type."

"I knew it!"

"What?"

"Nothing."

* * *

><p>"Finn, may I have a word with you?"<p>

"Sure, Rach, what's up?"

"For a while now I've been wanting to sing _'Secret Lovers'_ by Atlantic Starr and, as clearly you are the obvious choice as my duet partner, I was wondering if you were free to come to mine tonight to work on it. My Dads won't be there so we'll have the whole house to ourselves to, um, work on the song."

Was batting her eyelashes a little over the top? Probably. Especially as she hadn't rehearsed it that way. The extra flourish wasn't needed anyway, the general chatter in the room was already dropping away as everyone gawped from her to Finn to Quinn – who was standing no more than ten feet away talking to Brittany and Matt.

"Did she seriously just ask him that?" Santana sneered from across the room, echoed in various sentiments by the others.

The expression on Finn's face alone was priceless. "Uh, I don't know if that's a good idea, Rachel."

"Oh. Why not? We've rehearsed one-on-one before."

"Right, that's the _last_ straw you little freakshow!"

She turned sharply as Quinn came at her, charging the short distance between them, and braced for impact. It was unnecessary. Quinn sent her flying over a chair, three others being smashed out of the way by her passage, but Quinn's hands remained tightly gripped in her sweater. She went down fast but surprisingly gently. She still couldn't help screaming a little.

Quinn hauled her up again just as fast and the most uncomfortable thing about it was being forced to stand on her tiptoes.

"I've had enough of you trying to steal my boyfriend! He's with me, RuPaul! And even if he wasn't he would still never go for a misshapen dwarf like you. Stay away from him or I will _end _you, Stubbles, am I making myself really clear here? Are you _getting_ this?

Rachel's eyes were wide with fear and it wasn't because she was an excellent actress.

Quinn shook her. "_Are you_?"

"Y-y-yes."

"What's going _on_ in here?"

"Berry just pissed in the wrong pool, Mr. Schue," Puck was already laughing about it.

"And now Quinn's marking her territory," Mercedes added.

Through the ringing in her ears Rachel vaguely heard Brittany ask, "So does that mean Quinn's pissing in the pool too? 'Cause that's kind of gross. What if we want to go swimming later?"

Quinn held onto her sweater until Mr. Schue tried to break them up; if he realized it was surprisingly easy he didn't ask why. At the last second before she let go, Quinn mouthed, _I'm sorry_; her lips moving only enough for Rachel to understand the shape of the words. It didn't mean anything to her right now and after staggering back a few steps she turned and fled the Choir room.

She had to get to a bathroom before she was sick.

* * *

><p>Quinn had to wait twenty minutes before she could reasonably excuse herself by saying she was just too angry to get into Glee today. Finn wanted to go with her, but she managed to convince him that it would make the whole session a wash if he wasn't there to sing the male lead and that wasn't fair on the others.<p>

It had taken her another twenty minutes to find Rachel; she was starting to think she'd just run home instead of waiting for her Dad. The last place she looked probably should have been the first in retrospect.

The girl was sitting with her back against the wall of the seldom-used workshop, knees pulled up to her chin, staring through the chain-link fence at the whirls of colorful falling leaves. Quinn sat beside her without a word, staring up at the changing patterns of blue and grey in the sky beyond the branches.

"So, that was kind of harsh."

"You think?"

"You know why I had to do it though, right?"

"I was trying to steal your boyfriend."

"Rachel!"

"Don't 'Rachel' me! Since when do you call me Rachel anyway? Stick to what you're good at, Quinn. You're much better suited to calling me 'Stubbles' or 'RuPaul' or 'Freakshow' or . . ." Quinn winced with every name. ". . . or . . . misshapen dwarf!"

Rachel made a choking, snorting sound and Quinn's eyes went wide. Oh God, she was about to start bawling her eyes out! She couldn't handle that. She didn't know how to deal with people crying. She always ignored Santana when her friend's fiery temperament resulted in tears, or steered her in Brittany's direction at the very most.

"Hey, come on. Don't be such a baby. It wasn't that . . ." she ducked her head to meet Rachel's gaze, hoping she could glare the tears away, only there weren't any. The deep brown eyes looking back were warm and dry and . . . "You're laughing about this?"

"No!" Rachel covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. "There is nothing funny about being . . . about being called a . . . a misshapen . . . dwarf . . . _Oh dear_ . . . in front of your peers!"

Quinn was too surprised to relax yet. "You're not angry with me?"

"Of course I'm angry with you. You made me throw up and I know you know how horrible that feels."

"Because I pushed you over? Did you hurt yourself?"

"Well, being flung over a chair wasn't fun but no, it didn't hurt me. No, because in the three years you've been bullying me you have never terrified me like that – Santana yes, but never you – and I don't know why it did because I knew it was make believe, but you are one scary girl when you want to be, Quinn Fabray."

"I'm sorry."

"And you spat on me when you called me Stubbles."

"Oh wow, that's embarrassing."

"Really?" Rachel finally turned to look at her. "_You_ are embarrassed by something that just happened in the Choir room? I nearly wet myself, Quinn!"

She did try to respectfully hold her laughter in but a giggle escaped anyway. Rachel huffed at her but as she turned back to the chain-link fence a smile was tugging at her lips.

"So do you think it at least accomplished your mission?"

"Our mission," she corrected absently. "And yes, I don't think anyone's going to be starting rumors about you and I being, you know, _together_ anytime soon."

"In that case, when you think about it, this would actually be the perfect time to start a clandestine affair."

"It would be. It's a pity you don't have a crush on me, isn't it? Almost feels like the waste of a perfect opportunity."

"Sometimes I don't know when you're joking."

"I'm joking."

"Good to know. Also, you owed me big before. Now you owe me really big."

"I'm still not having sex with you."

"Was that a joke?"

Quinn bumped their shoulders together as she chuckled, "No!"

"Are we at least friends now?"

The laughter died away with a sigh. "No, Rachel, we can't be friends. That would make what I just put you through completely redundant."

"Then what are we? Because I know I'm not well versed in many, well any, of the social intricacies that glue our student body together, but I'm pretty sure this is something." Her small hand slipped into Quinn's, where it rested between them, as if to prove a point.

Quinn's head tipped back against the wall, her eyes slipping closed at how it felt, the way their palms slid together and connected perfectly.

"I think what we are is confused," she murmured. "But you were right . . . this is nothing like holding Brittany's hand."

"Or my Dad's."

"Or," she bit her bottom lip to keep from saying it, but the words wanted to be out there and so she closed her eyes tighter and whispered, "_Or Finn's._"


	13. One Can Stand Alone in the Dark

Wow, you guys are making it difficult to keep up with individual replies to your reviews! Not that I'm complaining, very much not complaining, just a little overwhelmed. Thank you for all the support you're giving this story :)

I was told this chapter had to be up by 6PM Melbourne time, but I'll be asleep then, so have it now.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twelve:<strong>

**One Can Stand Alone in the Dark.**

Quinn didn't stay much longer, her own admission probably scaring her. After another couple of minutes she pulled her hand out of Rachel's and stood up, brushing down the back of her Cheerios skirt and looking anywhere but at her.

For her part, Rachel was feeling just as nervous and was pretending to search for the perfect place to store the handkerchiefs in her bag. Quinn was unsettling at the best of times, but never more so than today. First with her willingness to practice their part in the routine, and then with the fake-fight and then . . . They'd been holding hands for at _least _three and a half minutes!

"Do you mind if I go first? I want to be out of the parking lot before Glee ends."

"That's fine. I have to wait for my Dad anyway."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodbye, Quinn. Have a nice evening."

"You too."

Rachel watched her go before standing and pulling her bag onto her shoulder. She walked in the other direction; taking the long way around would kill some time and make sure they weren't spotted coming from the same area of school.

Quinn's car was long gone by the time she sat on the bench by the pick up/drop off point but she was just in time to see the others wandering out the main entrance. Half of them didn't even acknowledge her. Finn gave her a look that she couldn't read and for half a second she thought he was going to stop, but he obviously thought better of it and used his long stride to catch up with Puck and Santana.

Artie rolled up beside her, he was waiting for his Dad too, but he didn't say a word until Tina joined them, taking a seat next to her on the bench.

"A-a-are you o-okay?"

"Yes, thank you, Tina. I'm fine."

Artie bent at the waist, looking around Tina so that he could see her. "What were you thinking, Rachel?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about."

"You just t-t-tried to commit s-s-suicide!"

She frowned, "Why does everyone liken upsetting Quinn Fabray with attempted suicide?"

"Because that's what they call it when you poke an angry bear with a sharp stick!"

"Quinn's not an angry bear. She's more of a . . . a mountain lion or a lynx. Actually, she's more of a wolf; yes she's a blonde wolf."

It was her eyes, and her smirk, and her aggressively playful attitude this afternoon (fake-fight not included) – they all seemed like very wolf-like attributes.

Artie and Tina were looking at her oddly and Rachel cleared her throat. "She's not big enough to be a bear."

"But she c-could still snap you like a t-twig."

"I thought she was going to," Artie agreed.

"I assure you I can handle Quinn Fabray. Psychotic as she appeared this afternoon, I am not afraid of her."

"Oh please, Rachel, we could all practically smell the urine running down your leg."

She turned her head the other way to see Kurt had joined them. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that she really hadn't been scared, but she'd almost been able to _feel _it running down her leg.

"I admit, she caught me off guard. I wasn't even aware she was in the room until she was charging at me," she lied.

"Well, clearly," Artie said, "not even you would be stupid enough to flirt with Quinn Fabray's boyfriend in front of her!"

She frowned at the implication that she was stupid in other ways and resisted the urge to tell them that she had in fact flirted with Finn on a couple of occasions in front of his girlfriend and lived to tell the tale.

"Can we just forget about it? It was clearly ill-advised to do as I did and the lesson has been learned, but make no mistake; I have no intention of tip-toeing around Quinn in the future just to evade her wrath. I am not scared of her and I will not bow down to her animalistic jealousy."

"Ooh, I smell a feud." Kurt clapped his hands together.

"How are you going to get back at her?" Artie asked, sounding as excited as Kurt.

Rachel frowned. She didn't have any plan to get back at her, obviously, and she wasn't sure why they thought she would or why they sounded happy about it.

"I thought you all liked Quinn?"

"More than you, yes," Kurt said, "but that doesn't change the fact that she's been a bitch to all of us at some point or another."

"S-s-she's slushied me three t-times this semester. It was b-before she'd joined Glee, b-b-but still."

"She was the one that came up with Foureyes-McWheely the first day of freshman year. Nobody knew my real name for two months. Even the teachers called me Mr. McWheely!"

Wow, she'd known Quinn had always bullied her but she'd never really noticed that she was mean to everyone else as well.

"So, personally, I'm hoping this feud will bring you both down. That way the rest of us might actually get a solo; because right now if you're not singing then Quinn is."

Wow, she thought again. "So, basically, what you're saying is, I am the lesser of two evils."

"Y-y-yes."

"Go Team-Berry." Artie half-heartedly pumped his fist in the air.

Rachel's Dad pulled into the pick-up point and gave her a cheery wave which ended in a 'Don't hurry, take your time' gesture. He was obviously pleased to see her interacting with her fellow students after school.

She stood anyway and took the first few steps towards the car. "I appreciate your support but . . ."

Actually she had nothing to add. They didn't really support her, they just supported Quinn less and she felt annoyed by that on her new not-friend's behalf, but at the same time, it felt nice to have people on her side for once.

". . . I'll see you tomorrow."

She was buckling herself into the passenger seat when her Dad asked, "Do any of your friends want to come over for pizza? We can order extra."

"No thank you, Dad. They're not really my friends; I'm just in Glee with them."

"Oh." It was a response similar to what he what he was used to hearing. As he pulled away from the curb, he added, "Well let's get extra anyway, just for the three of us."

"That sounds nice."

* * *

><p>Quinn was in her bedroom, praying to Jesus.<p>

Actually, she was just talking to him while sitting in her desk chair. It was a drag to get on her knees every time she just wanted a simple conversation with her saviour. She saved that ritual for just before bed and church. It was so ingrained in her now that she suspected she would still be kneeling beside her bed for five minutes every night even when she was forty. It had made her a laughing stock her first ever night at Cheerleading camp, but she was Quinn Fabray and they hadn't laughed for long.

"I know it's wrong," she murmured to the painting on her wall. "I just don't really know why I know that anymore."

In her head, Jesus said, _Tell me what you do know._

Which was a pretty standard response for him. He was like the best therapist ever.

"I know you don't think girl-on-girl is wrong." She flinched even as the words left her mouth. "Okay, that wasn't an appropriate word choice. It sounded pornographic and I know _that's_ a sin. And sorry for saying the word pornographic. I just mean, two girls liking each other can't be wrong, not really, because how can loving someone, whatever their gender, be wrong? I mean, you're all about love, right? Not that I'm talking about _love _here! Oh _God_," she groaned, pressing her knuckles to her mouth as she just tried to _think_ about this without freaking out on herself. "Look, it's not a big deal, it's not anything important, it's just . . ." She sighed softly again, smiling and rolling her eyes simultaneously. "She has these nice, small, soft, completely unmanly hands . . . and, I don't know, it's like holding a puppy's paw or something. It just feels good. Is it wrong if it's just holding hands?"

The voice inside her asked, _What happened to 'just looking'?_

She lowered her eyes, gaze settling on her knees. Her hands had clasped in her lap at some point without her noticing.

_What comes after holding hands?_

Blushing, she closed her eyes, blurting, "Nothing! It's not like I want to . . . Jesus! _No!_"

_Really? You know that for sure, do you?_

She was saved from answering by a ping coming from her computer and after a quick 'amen' she swivelled her desk chair to face it. There was an email alert telling her a new MySpace video had been posted and she clicked on the link.

When the page loaded there was a box with Rachel Berry standing up straight and poised in her bedroom, paused but ready to go as soon as she clicked 'play'. She shouldn't. She'd only favorited Berry's page and requested the alerts because it made it easier for her and the Cheerios to torture the girl. Half of the time they hadn't even watched the video before posting a nasty comment, but that really wasn't why she wanted to watch it now. Which was what made it wrong, surely.

She stood and paced her room for a few minutes. Not that it would have looked like pacing to an outside observer. She took books from her school bag on one side of the room and carried them to her desk, from her desk she took the folder of homework for History and carried it back to her bag. She straightened first one side of her comforter and then walked around to the other side to straighten it out some more. She took her empty glass of milk from her bedside cabinet to the shelf near the door so she wouldn't forget to take it downstairs and from the shelf she took the bag of chocolate covered raisins and carried it over to her bedside cabinet in case she was hungry in the night. She was pretty sure it was too early for cravings, but she'd been devouring a two-pound bag of them almost every day for the last week; she'd convinced herself it was okay because they were at least half healthy.

Finally, after rearranging some of the knick-knacks on her shelves and tidying the things on her desk to an obsessive degree, she gave in and sat back down.

Rachel sang _'This Could Be Love'_ by Craig David, and it was so weird Quinn had to watch it again. It was definitely outside of her usual comfort zone but she pulled it off, proving her talented vocal range. Quinn watched it a third time, just because, trying not to focus on the lyrics.

Someone had beaten her to the first comment.

**Cheerio69: **We wish you were on fire. Maybe we'll make that dream come true tomorrow.

Quinn rolled her eyes at the threat. Santana, smart as she was, never did get the fine line between tormenting someone and risking life imprisonment.

She clicked to leave her own comment but hesitated, not knowing what to say. After a few seconds she remembered about changing her username and spent some time thinking about it before creating a new account and clicking on the reply button again.

**Streisandsnose: **I like the song; not normal for you though. What made you sing it?

As soon as she sent it she regretted the question, it was far too leading. Rachel made her wait ten minutes for an answer too, which nearly killed her, and she spent all of them tapping her fingers against her desk while refreshing her screen.

**RachelBarbraBerry: **My Dad was listening to the CD on the way home from school and it stayed in my head.

That hadn't been the answer she was expecting. A moment later another comment appeared under that one.

**RachelBarbraBerry: **Is that you?

Quinn smiled and thought about saying no just for the hell of it, but that would have been a dead giveaway anyway.

**Streisandsnose: **Maybe.

**RachelBarbraBerry: **I appreciate you changing your username, but that's a little weird.

**Streisandsnose: **I thought you'd like the idea of her commenting on you.

**RachelBarbraBerry: **I do, but it's still weird. Noses can't type for one.

Quinn smiled again as she tapped out another comment.

**Streisandsnose: **On the contrary, I'm typing with my nose right now.

**RachelBarbraBerry: **Sometimes I really don't know how to take you.

**Streisandsnose: **I don't know how to take me right now either. I'm pretty sure the baby hormones are to blame.

**Streisandsnose: **Shit, can you delete that?

**RachelBarbraBerry: **Doing it now.

She waited a few seconds before refreshing the page and sure enough her previous comment was gone.

**Streisandsnose: **This is completely not private. Delete the rest of it and log on to Facebook.

She did the same and then waited anxiously until a box popped up at the bottom of the screen declaring Rachel Barbra Berry wanted to chat.

**Rachel: **Hi!

**Quinn: **Hi.

**Rachel: **Did you want to talk about earlier?

Quinn shot a glance at Jesus but he just stared back impassively.

**Quinn: **I don't know.

**Rachel: **This is really strange, right? It's not just me?

**Quinn: **Well, you are really strange . . . but no, I'm feeling kind of strange too.

She'd already pretty much admitted it earlier but that didn't stop her from nearly hyperventilating when she hit send.

**Rachel: **What does it mean?

**Quinn: **Beats me, Berry.

**Rachel: **We should talk about it.

**Quinn: **We are talking about it, and trust me, that doesn't make me happy.

**Rachel: **Tell me what you're thinking?

**Quinn: **Why do I have to go first?

**Rachel: **I was clever enough to ask first.

Quinn sent a frowny smiley while she thought about the question.

**Quinn: **I've been thinking about this afternoon.

**Rachel: **That's vague.

She smiled again_._

**Quinn:** It was supposed to be. Your turn.

**Rachel: **I've been thinking about this afternoon too.

Quinn rolled her eyes.

**Quinn: **And what did you think about it?

**Rachel: **A lot, what did you think about it?

This was getting ridiculous. If neither of them had the guts to just . . . whatever, be honest, then there was really no point in putting herself through this hellish conversation in the first place.

Her phone rang and she was _so_ tense that it startled her badly; jerking her little finger down onto the ENTER key by accident. Her half-finished thought appeared on the screen.

**Quinn: **Ok, let's cut to the chase. Something decidedly troubling is going on here. I don't understand it and I don't I like it much, but lately I've been feeling like maybe

**Rachel: **You can't stop there!

**Rachel: **That's evil!

**Rachel: **Quinn, there is no excuse for this cruelty!

She grinned nervously as the messages appeared one after the other.

**Quinn: **Chill out! My phone's just ringing. Brb.

**Rachel: **Ok.

It was Finn and Quinn smiled as she answered it.

"Hey." What he had to say did not please her. "You have got to be kidding me? _Why?_ Can't you like pull rank or something? . . . Of course this is a disaster! . . . Because I don't _want_ her there, that's why!"

She ended the call as soon as she could and, furious, went back to typing.

**Quinn: **Did Mike just call you?

**Rachel: **About an hour ago, yes, why?

**Quinn: **He invited you to the party?

**Rachel: **Yes

**Quinn: **And you said yes?

**Rachel: **Yes. Is that a problem?

**Quinn: **I thought you didn't like him like that?

**Rachel: **Maybe I was too hasty in my judgement.

**Quinn: **You're leading him on!

**Rachel: **Quinn, he invited me to a party, I didn't agree to marry him! Why is it a big deal anyway?

**Quinn: **It's not.

Quinn sat back in her chair and fumed.

**Rachel: **If you want me to cancel . . .?

**Quinn: **Why would I care either way?

**Quinn: **You are really annoying!

**Rachel: **Why? I don't understand how I've upset you?

Seriously? She didn't get why going on a date with Mike might _upset _her? Had she already completely forgotten why they were even talking to each other right now?

**Quinn: **You're insane. Why would you want to go anyway?

**Rachel: **Do you know how many dates I went on during freshman year?

**Quinn: **None?

**Rachel: **Exactly! I am not passing up this chance to actually have a social life.

**Quinn: **You do realize this isn't the kind of party you're used to, right? There won't be any cake or ice-cream or bouncy castles. This is a high school party.

**Rachel: **Of course I'm aware of that.

**Quinn: **And it's not a Glee thing. This party is for the jocks and cheerleaders.

**Rachel: **Do you have a point?

**Quinn: **You won't fit in!

**Rachel: **Mike seems to think I will.

Quinn sat back again, running her hands through her hair in frustration.

**Quinn: **Fine! But don't expect me to talk to you at the party!

**Rachel: **I'd be extremely surprised if you did even under normal circumstances.

**Quinn: **Good.

**Rachel: **Anyway, I believe we were having a conversation. You were about to tell me how you feel :)

**Quinn: **I feel nauseated! My skin's been crawling ever since you held my hand. I don't know what I was thinking letting you do that in the first place, but it better not happen again, ok?

**Rachel: **You're lying.

**Quinn: **Doubt me Berry and you'll find out just how much I'm not lying. You be Mike's little date tomorrow night if you want to, I don't begrudge him doing something for charity, but if you so much as look at me funny while you're there . . .

A minute went by before she received a reply.

**Rachel: **You're the one who looks at me funny, remember?

**Quinn: **Screw you, Stubbles!

Quinn closed the chat box before Rachel could write back and then, with a growl of irritation, she shoved her school books off of her desk. They hit the floor in a series of thuds.

She glared up at Jesus, hands curled into fists and breathing heavy. "What? Like _you_ were any help just then!"

* * *

><p>Rachel jerked awake from a dream about Quinn standing close enough that her hands rested naturally on her hips, close enough that Rachel could feel the rise and fall of her chest, close enough that she could smell the lingering scent of Quinn's shower gel on the skin of her shoulder, close enough that she could hear the head cheerleader inexplicably whispering, 'Beep. Beep. Beep.' in her ear over and over again . . . and after a second to get her bearings, reached for her phone on the nightstand, that was also going Beep. Beep. Beep.<p>

It was a new text message and seeing that it wasn't from Quinn, she dropped her phone onto the bed. That dream had been in no way erotic but it had still taken her breath away and she wanted to slip back into her slumber to re-capture it because, who knew, it might get erotic later.

After a few moments though, her guilty conscience won out and she checked the message. It was from Kurt, telling her to wear something hot (or as he'd put it, anything she wouldn't usually wear) for her first day of the feud. She rolled her eyes and sent a quick text back saying that while she appreciated his concern it really wasn't necessary.

That didn't stop her from spending twenty minutes longer than usual choosing what to wear, though.

* * *

><p>A little later she stared into her open locker, nervous about meeting McKinley High's collective gaze. She was already regretting her wardrobe choice despite Kurt's once over look ending in a not-unimpressed nod ten minutes before. He'd made her uncomfortable, because it just played further into his absurd idea that she was planning to exact some form of revenge on Quinn, but it was everyone else she was nervous of. She'd already received one wolf-whistle from Azimio Adams and a freshman on the football team had made a very inappropriate comment about her posterior as she'd passed him.<p>

Intellectually she knew her skirts were far more revealing than the tight black jeans and red skinny-rib t-shirt she had chosen for today, but they'd never garnered half as much attention. She was almost scared to move from this spot and find out what everyone else thought of her attire and for the first time was almost hoping to be slushied, thus giving her an excuse to change into something a little more her.

As the bell rang she could put it off no longer and with a deep, courage-building breath she closed her locker and turned to begin the school day. She should have waited another few seconds!

The three top Cheerios were coming towards her, Quinn slightly in the lead, striding down the corridor as if they owned it – which they pretty much did. She thought they were going to pass her without even a glance but with just feet between them the head cheerleader's eyes flicked to hers. It was over in a flash and Rachel was just breathing a sigh of relief that . . . Okay, the second look was longer, and while it could only have been seconds those provocative hazel eyes felt like honey dribbling leisurely down her body.

Rachel was still wide-eyed as she tried to process the fact that _Quinn _had just, unmistakeably, _checked her out _when the taller girl's bicep connected hard with her shoulder, sending her crashing back into the lockers.

The trio didn't even slow down and Rachel stared after them, breathless not from the impact but from the residual feel of Quinn's eyes.

Mike came out of nowhere. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, unable to speak yet, because just as she was about to turn the corner Quinn looked back, meeting her gaze. The blonde sneered and then she was gone.

* * *

><p>That was how the morning continued for Rachel. She received a few more wolf-whistles – one of which was from Puck, and that somehow meant more than the others because, well, Puck was Puck and he was even more popular than Finn! – and one of the Junior boys she was in debate class with had actually asked her name! And Jacob Ben Israel had tried to grab her butt as she passed him on the way to History but that was actually less unusual and still totally gross.<p>

Mike was even more attentive than he had been the last couple of days, which was very nice.

She'd even caught Finn eyeing her breasts in Spanish class which, seeing as he was sitting next to his girlfriend, would probably result in her being killed at some point during the day. She smiled back at him though, because Kurt and Tina were both watching and for some reason it seemed like a good idea to indulge their notion that this was some kind of revenge.

Quinn was a different story, however, and every time their paths crossed there was some kind of repeat of that morning – although without the heated look that had made it so worth it earlier.

She'd been publicly ridiculed four times in the hallways over how her outfit proved she had no butt and no boobs, apparently leaving Quinn and Santana (and anyone else in hearing range) with no doubt that she really was a drag queen.

In History alone the back of her chair was kicked continuously, Dr Pepper was _accidentally _spilled on her textbook, and the back of her head was pelted relentlessly with chocolate covered raisins all through the lesson. And then, as she was leaving the class, _someone_ had forcefully shoved her into the elderly History teacher. It had led to an extremely unflattering photo of her and Mr. Townsend in an explicitly uncompromizing position against his desk. Rachel only knew this because Santana had been kind enough to send her (and everyone else in her contacts) a copy via text message. She was almost more concerned that Santana even had her phone number than of the photo itself.

Through it all, Rachel kept her head up high. Obviously Quinn had gone into a meltdown about what had happened between them the day before, innocent as it was, and she could definitely relate. Of course she didn't need to resort to the bully tactics Quinn employed to deal with it but that just proved she was a far better person than the cheerleader. It wasn't something she liked knowing. Even through all of their exceedingly hostile relationship she'd tried to think the best of the other girl, but perhaps it was just time to face the fact that, yesterday notwithstanding, Quinn just really wasn't a very nice person.

It also helped that the blonde's behavior today was fast crushing her developing crush and that could only be a good thing.

So she was more annoyed than worried when she found the note in her locker at lunchtime.

Rachel scrunched it up and threw it to the back. Why should she meet her in the restroom behind the gym? It was only because Quinn either wanted her handkerchiefs or was luring her there to beat her up, probably with Santana and Brittany's help.

She sighed as she took said handkerchiefs from the locker and snuck them into her bag. She would go, but if it was for the latter reason then she was telling Santana and Brittany everything, about the pregnancy and about the hand-holding! Obviously it would make her beat-down worse, but at this point she didn't really care.

* * *

><p>Quinn waited anxiously in the restroom behind the gym, wondering if she should have picked a better meeting place. This <em>was<em> the best though, because with the locker rooms having bathrooms of their own, hardly anybody ever came in here. It was why it was her go-to place for throwing up – if she had enough advance warning to make it this far.

She hadn't yet since arriving, but if Berry didn't get her ass there soon the nausea was going to turn into actual sickness and then it would be raisin chunks all over again.

She paced from stalls to sinks over and over, her hand occasionally moving from her stomach to cover her mouth, and breathed a sigh of relief when the door was cautiously opened.

"If you plan to physically harm me, I should warn you . . ."

"I'm not. Get in here." When the door was closing behind Berry, she added, "Tell me you have the handkerchiefs?"

"I have them."

She held her hand out. "Then give them to me."

"I don't think so."

"What?"

"You've been verbally, emotionally and physically abusive to me all day, Quinn. Why should I want to do anything nice for you?"

She didn't have an answer for that and she felt a moment of shame for the way she'd been acting, but only a moment. "If you don't give them to me I'll _take_ them."

"Or you could simply apologize to me."

"I'm not apologizing to you, Manhands. Give them to me!"

"Why do you call me Manhands? Does it make you feel better about wanting to hold them?"

Rachel squeaked in surprise as Quinn rushed her, knocking her back into the door and keeping her there with a forearm held across her collarbone.

"Don't _test _me, Dwarf!"

She ripped the bag from Berry's shoulder and passed it to the hand keeping her against the door so that she could unzip it and look inside. She found what she wanted immediately and then dropped the bag, kicking it so that the contents spilled out haphazardly across the floor.

Handkerchiefs in hand, she made the mistake of looking up. Berry's eyes were wide and dark with a mix of fear and thrill and it was hard to look away. The girl was having difficulty breathing too and, suddenly worried that she was pressing too hard on her lungs or her trachea or something, Quinn removed her arm and braced her hand on the door instead. Rachel's breathing didn't improve and the fact that something was now squeezing _her _lungs was probably a good sign to move the hell away.

Now that Berry was finally free to move, Quinn waited to be pushed back, but instead hands settled timidly just above her hips, subtly encouraging her closer. Confused, her eyes studied Rachel's before dropping to breathless lips that seemed to be waiting for something. Waiting for . . .? It was feeling herself yield to those hands - coming a half-step closer, head naturally tilting to keep eye contact - that cleared up her confusion. Oh!

Panic shot through her like a tazor zap.

"Don't _touch _me!" She pushed away from the door, slapping spitefully at Berry's arm at the same time. "And get out of here."

"Quinn . . ."

"Go . . . _now_!"

She needed her to for as much Rachel's sake as her own; any more of this and she was going to lash out in a big way.

Rachel nodded, collected her belongings from the floor as quickly as she could and then left much more meekly than she had arrived.

Quinn ripped open the box of handkerchiefs and held two to her nose at the same time. It killed the nausea almost completely but the scent just reminded her of the girl who'd been in her arms – in a manner of speaking – just moments before so it was really a win-lose situation.

* * *

><p>"Dude, I need a favor."<p>

Finn looked up as Mike dropped onto the locker room bench beside him. "Sure, what do you need?"

"My alternator is dying and the car has to be in the shop until Monday but I don't wanna look like a total lame-o making my date walk a mile to a party. Any chance we can catch a ride with you?"

"Oh sure, no problem," Finn grinned easily. "Quinn's driving but she won't mind."

"Thanks, dude, I owe you one." Mike smacked Finn's shoulder with his palm and then ran out of the locker room.

Finn continued to grin as he rubbed a towel over his hair. He was really looking forward to this party, mostly because it would be the first time he'd seen Quinn out of school all week. Who knew getting someone pregnant would get him even less attention than before? And then he remembered something and his grin fell faster than he did when getting sacked on the field.

"But no . . . _Rachel's_ your date!"

Quinn was going to_ kill_ him!

* * *

><p>"You <em>have<em> to be joking!" Quinn hissed.

She couldn't believe him! Of all the stupid freaking things to agree to! She'd always known Finn was too nice for his own good but this was taking it to a whole new level.

"I forgot, okay!"

"No, Finn, really not okay. I am not riding with her to the party."

She glanced over at Berry, sitting on the other side of the Choir room. She just couldn't do it and it was unfair of him to ever expect her to. If Rachel only looked half as . . . not _entirely_ unhot as she did right now . . . at the party, Quinn already knew she was going to be in a terrible mood all night. And, dammit, despite her earlier doubts, she'd been looking forward to this party. She needed this chance to unwind. Knowing Rachel was going hadn't fazed her too much – okay it had fazed her a lot but she'd made peace with it – but picking her up, driving her there, it sort of made it look like they were friends or something.

_Not to mention it makes it feel almost like a date._

'_Okay, Jesus, not helping right now!' _

_Of course I am, pointing out your innermost insecurities so you can learn to deal with them is how I work._

Quinn thought about that. _'No, really not helping. If you want to help, make it feel like it's not almost a date.'_

_Hey, I know I've performed my fair share of miracles but even I have my limitations._

Quinn snorted. "Amen."

Finn was smiling at her, "Were you just praying?"

"Yes, I was praying for the strength to get me through your complete fuck up!"

"Okay guys, let's head to the auditorium to practice the routine. Something tells me today is the day.

Groaning, Quinn started to pray again.

* * *

><p>"Okay, Midget, I'mma gives you a heads-up." Rachel looked up as Santana approached her; it was actually a welcome change from trying to sneak looks at Quinn. "You mess up this routine even once today and I will hold you down and shave your lumpy head, okay?"<p>

She nodded, "I don't think I will pose a problem today, Santana."

At least she hoped not. Things might have been doubly strange between her and Quinn but surely the cheerleader wouldn't let all of their hard work the day before go to waste.

She glanced at Quinn again but the other girl didn't look back. If she'd noticed her friend was threatening her then she obviously didn't care.

The music started and after going swimmingly for a few minutes there was a hiccup, it could in no way be blamed on her though.

As soon as Quinn took her hand she pulled it back to cover a (quite possibly fake) sneeze. "Sorry, allergies."

She covered her nose with a lilac handkerchief. Rachel kept her eye roll and her concern to herself and walked back to her starting position.

"Since when do you have allergies?" Santana asked.

"I don't know, it's probably Stubbles' rank perfume." Rachel allowed herself an eye roll this time, because really, Quinn had just drawn more attention to them. "Maybe I shouldn't get that close to her."

"I'm not wearing perfume!"

"Then it must just be you!"

"Let's just try it again," Mr. Schue said, trying to be ever-patient.

"Can I have a word with Quinn please?" Rachel was speaking up before she'd realized that she wanted to, but she went with it. "In private. I believe this has something to do with out altercation yesterday and I would like to attempt to clear the air."

"No." Quinn said without looking at her.

"Actually I think that's a good idea." Rachel had never loved Mr. Schuester so much. "Why don't we take five? You guys can go in the wings to talk."

They might all have been in Glee willingly but it didn't take any of them a second to choose to slack off. Rachel despaired of them, she really did, as they all left the stage in search of snacks and sodas. Kurt shot her an expectant smirk as they all left.

"What did you do that for?" Quinn hissed.

"For the very reason I just explained."

"Fine, come on then."

"Everyone has left, we don't really need to go into the . . ."

"Come on!"

Rachel followed her to the side of the stage and when Quinn looked around, so did she. They were completely alone.

"Talk."

Rachel straightened her shoulders. "I know things are very strange between us at the moment."

"No, they're not."

She ignored that. "But we need to get through this routine. We've practiced it; we know we can do it. So let's. I'll keep my eyes on your shoulder, you choose a point somewhere above my head and we'll be absolutely fine."

"Did you know Mike asked Finn if he could give you two a ride to the party tonight?"

"No, I didn't."

"I'll be picking you up at eight."

"Okay, maybe not _absolutely_ fine."

Quinn smirked, "I can get through this if you can."

It took Rachel a moment to answer, but, "I can."

* * *

><p>They could practice this routine a thousand times before Sectionals and their performance would never be better than it was today.<p>

So they still hadn't practiced with the boy's lifts, so Mercedes was half a beat out and Santana was half a beat ahead, so Tina got so dizzy after Brittany had twirled her a little too enthusiastically she staggered all over the place before taking Matt's hand . . . none of it matter because Quinn and Rachel stole the show.

Their initial twirl was sublime, the unshakable eye-contact as they turned in each others arms was captivating and the final twirl that sent Rachel to Finn's waiting hand was performed with such ridiculously comfortable ease they could have been professional ballroom dancers.

Everyone had their own part to play in the routine but many of them forgot what it was after watching Quinn and Rachel. Kurt stalled, completely missing his cue to stride between Puck and Quinn and throw his hands in the air. Artie, who was supposed to come through the line after Mercedes moved from Brittany to Matt, was just spinning his wheels, literally. Santana was glaring at Quinn like she'd lost her mind, while Finn was staring at them like all of his Christmases had come at once. Puck was too, but with more of a leer.

Rachel and Quinn both hated all of them right now.

"Okay, guys, that was almost perfect. But let's try and run through the whole thing now, what do you say? Let's take our positions again."

Rachel and Quinn both groaned.


	14. You Can Make My Light Shine Through

****I'm still having connection issues, been trying to post this for hours! Thanks for the reviews :)

**Chapter Thirteen: **

**You Can Make My Light Shine Through.**

"I'm really sorry about this," Finn murmured for the hundredth time.

Quinn looked in her rear view mirror to see Mike bouncing in the back seat. His expression was a picture of calm but his body language said different. He was really excited about his date.

She growled under her breath as she turned onto Berry's road.

"Which one's her house?" Mike asked, pulling on his seatbelt so that he could lean forward for a better view.

"You don't even know where she lives?"

Mike wasn't fazed by her exasperated tone. "Obviously I was going to ask, but then when I realized I wouldn't be driving it slipped my mind. I'll just call her house."

"Don't bother; it's the one on the corner."

Both of them stared at Finn, and Quinn knew she looked more jealous of his knowledge than the boy in the back, but that was only because Finn was her boyfriend, meaning he shouldn't know where any girl lived but her, and especially not Rachel Berry. She hoped no one ever asked her to give that explanation out loud, because if it sounded that bad in her head . . .

"And how do you know that?"

He was tense; like he knew he'd just lit the fuse and hadn't given himself enough time to run away from the bomb. "My Mom brought her home after a few of us went to watch Vocal Adrenaline that time. We gave Mercedes a ride too!"

After a long – well short actually because she was still driving albeit at five miles an hour – cool glare, she let him off the hook and turned back to the road. "This one?" At Finn's nod she coasted into the driveway and cut the engine.

She was unbuckling her seatbelt and ready to go to the front door when she remembered this wasn't _her_ date and that would have been completely out of place. She covered her mistake by pretending she'd been reaching for her bag by Finn's feet all along.

"Good luck, dude!" Finn supported his friend as Mike spent a few seconds psyching himself up.

"Good luck?" Quinn raised an eyebrow. "He's walking across a well lit driveway and pressing a doorbell. I mean, I know it's _Stubbles_, but what does he need luck for?"

"You have no idea how scary this is for a guy do you," Mike explained his fear.

"Yeah, especially a first date!"

"What if her Dad answers?"

"Or her other Dad?"

"What if they want to have the talk then and there?"

"And with Rachel that's two Dads, which is two talks . . ." Finn sounded almost as freaked out as Mike and Quinn narrowed her eyes, wondering just how much thought he'd put into the idea of dating Rachel. ". . . or one really _big_ talk."

"What if they're like way bigger than you?"

"Or you know, kind of crazy."

Mike nodded, "Like with lots of tats of skulls and a machete fetish or something."

"And that's just the easy stuff. Then you've got to figure out whether to shake hands or go for the high-five or whatever?"

"You'd high-five your date's Dad the first time you met him?" Quinn stared at her boyfriend in disbelief. "Oh God, you didn't try and high-five my father did you?"

Finn looked sheepish. "It was really embarrassing."

Quinn sighed heavily and turned in her seat to face Mike. "Ring the doorbell, _once_. If one of her fathers answers you introduce yourself, full name understand, and you offer your hand immediately. Give him a _formal _handshake and wait to be invited in. If you have to wait with him, make polite conversation about the weather or something. Don't tell him you're taking his precious daughter to a party because she might not have mentioned it. If you can't get out of it, tell him it's a birthday party and there will be adults there. As soon as you see Berry, lie and tell her she looks pretty and then get back out here as soon as possible so we can go." After a few moments she impatiently added, "Go on then!"

"Thanks Quinn!" He bounded out of the car eagerly and headed for the door.

"You're awesome."

Quinn smiled at her boyfriend and took a pristine handkerchief from her bag, holding it to her nose.

"Are you getting a cold?"

"It's just allergies."

"How _have_ you been feeling, you know with the morning sickness and stuff?"

"It comes and goes."

It was actually coming right now but she didn't want to ruin his evening by making him worry about her, not when he couldn't help anyway. It took a minute for the handkerchief to do its thing and when the wave of nausea passed she tucked the square of cotton back into her bag. If Finn noticed that she never actually blew her nose he didn't find it necessary to mention it.

Mike and Rachel were already heading for the car and she smiled automatically until she got a good full length look at Berry's outfit in the security lights.

"No way!"

She startled Finn. "What? What is it?"

"She is not wearing _that_."

Finn turned to look. "What's wrong with it?"

"She looks like the Creature from the Planet Argyle!"

"Is that even a real movie?"

"And tartan too?" Quinn was appalled. "Is she _trying_ to get herself humiliated tonight?"

She was out of the car before Finn could answer, intercepting the pair just as Mike was about to open the back door for the other girl.

"No."

"Good evening, Quinn."

"Go and change."

"I don't understand."

"Your clothes, Manhands. You can't wear that."

Berry looked down at herself and how the clash of patterns and colors didn't make her go blind was anyone's guess. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing? This is what I always wear."

"That doesn't make it okay. Look, it's bad enough that I have to walk into this party with you at all, you're not embarrassing me by dressing as Ronald McDonald's ugly cousin too. I know you have some decent clothes in there somewhere 'cause you looked hot today, so do us both a favor and go make yourself look hot again."

She'd just called Rachel Berry _hot_ twice in one sentence. The boys were uncomfortable enough about the confrontation that they hadn't even registered it but Rachel's eyes were wide and Quinn had to swallow hard against her sudden awkwardness.

Praying she wasn't blushing, she forged ahead. "We'll wait for you but don't take too long."

"I can't," Rachel whispered. "With every outfit I tried on my mind started taunting me and finding fault." She shot Mike an embarrassed glance. "Now I don't know up from down and I'm terrified to look in my closet again."

Quinn's sigh of exasperation came out decidedly gentle considering. "Hang here for ten minutes, guys. I'm going to go and chase the boogieman out of Berry's closet. And as I'm pretty sure it's me, it shouldn't take too long."

"I'm sorry, what did you just say you were doing?" Rachel had to trot to keep up with her as she walked to the front door.

"I'm going to exorcise your demons for you so you can change out of that hideous mistake and into something . . ." _'Don't say hot! Not again.' _". . . that won't leave Santana room to ridicule you all night."

"I'm pretty sure she's going to ridicule me all night whatever I'm wearing."

"True." Quinn tried not to make it obvious that she was looking through the doors leading off of the small foyer like a nosy new neighbor. She gestured for Rachel to lead the way now. "But we can at least limit how much ammunition she has."

In Rachel's room she stopped trying to hide her interest (in the room!) and turned on the spot to look around. It was . . . not as _gaudy_ as she'd expected it to be, but still far too Berryish. Her computer sat on a desk against one wall, dormant at the moment, but Quinn half smiled as she envisioned Berry sat there typing comments to her over MySpace.

The smile left just as quickly. "You did delete all the stuff we wrote yesterday, right?"

"Of course."

"Even the Facebook chat?"

"Quinn, the only person who has ever hacked my Facebook account is you – thank you for those enlightening status updates by the way, I actually gained seven new friends as a result – but our conversation was perfectly safe."

Quinn felt a surge of panic. "Santana taught me how to do that!"

Berry rolled her eyes, "It's just as well I cleared it all then, isn't it?"

Quinn nodded gratefully and looked around some more. She already knew one corner of it pretty well from the MySpace vids and now she saw the camcorder, set up on a tripod, in the other corner.

"Whatever you do, never invite Puck in here. He'll be trying to convince you to make a sex tape."

Rachel blushed and waved her hand to her closet, although most of her clothes had to be lying around the room. She really _had _tried a lot on.

"Okay, let's make this quick. Lose the clothes."

"I beg your pardon?" Now she was blushing harder and Quinn had to turn away to hide her smile.

"I've seen you naked before, Berry, it's no big deal. Not that I want you to take your underwear off too!" Oh great, now she was blushing, but at least her back was turned. "Right, this t-shirt."

She plucked a hot-pink fitted cotton t-shirt from the bed and held it out without looking until Rachel took it. Then she went to the closet and selected a dark blue skirt. It was shorter than Quinn was happy about but she only needed a glance, and experience of Rachel, to know they were all short.

As she handed it over, she said, "Lose the knee-highs too, they make you look six and it just makes _everyone_ feel uncomfortable when six year olds drink alcohol."

Rachel took the skirt. "I won't be drinking any alcohol, Quinn."

"That's up to you."

"Actually it's up to federal law."

Quinn grinned and bent to pull out some blue pumps from the bottom of the closet. She placed them neatly on the floor before standing up.

"Are you decent?"

"I am, not that it would matter considering how you've already seen me naked."

"I never said it was an experience I wanted to repeat, smart ass." Quinn turned around and nodded her approval. "Much better. Now put the cardigan back on."

"You're actually advocating I wear argyle? I thought that's what you were against."

"No, I was against you matching a blue argyle cardigan with a beige argyle sweater-vest over a ruffled white shirt, matched with – or not as the case may be – a blue and green tartan skirt and green and red argyle socks. Not even people _from _Argyle wear that much argyle, Rach." She blinked at the way she'd affectionately shortened Berry's name but not long enough to miss the other girl's surprised smile. "Anyway, there's nothing wrong with wearing a little of your signature look, you just don't need to shove it down people's throats. So put the cardigan back on."

Rachel did so and then stepped barefoot into the flat pumps. Quinn nodded again.

"The tartan skirt _is _kinda cute too, but you need to match it with something plain. Like this." She pulled a short-sleeved green shirt out of the closet. "That way you won't damage people's eyesight."

"Okay."

"And you need to burn that ruffled monstrosity of a shirt. The eighteen-forties aren't making a come back any time soon."

"Okay."

"And sweater vests are okay for school, occasionally, but never for parties. Unless it's like a seventieth birthday party or something," she conceded.

"Thank you, Quinn."

"Don't mention it; I'm considering it one of my daily good deeds for humanity."

Rachel ignored the jibe, still smiling slightly. "Are we ready to go?"

"Nearly. I know this will probably sound rude, but do you mind if I go and throw up in your bathroom?"

Rachel's smile instantly morphed into a concerned frown and she was about to ask if she was okay, but obviously realized urgency was needed right now and just pointed the way.

Quinn was already off and running, hand over her mouth.

* * *

><p>"Do you feel better?" Rachel asked as they walked down the stairs. "Maybe you shouldn't go to the party."<p>

"I'm fine now. It just came on all of a sudden. It's passed."

The way Quinn was holding one of their bathroom towels over her nose made Rachel less inclined to believe her but there was undoubtedly color back in the cheerleader's cheeks. The way she'd gone so pale just seconds before asking for the bathroom had been a little scary.

"Was it looking through my clothes that made you feel sick?" she asked, only half-joking.

Quinn sounded like she was grinning as she said, "Maybe."

It was only as they reached the foyer again that Quinn seemed to realize she was still inhaling the towel. She let it drop from her face self-consciously.

"I'm sorry for throwing up in your bathroom. Do you think your parents heard? I don't want them to think I'm drunk-driving you to the party or anything."

"My Dads are out for the evening at their friends' engagement party. It's in Columbus. I'm not expecting them back until at least the early hours of the morning."

"So they just went out for the night knowing you're going to your first ever high school party. That's not very responsible of them."

"They're perfectly responsible parents, Quinn. As responsible as yours anyway. My Dads are unaware I even have a social event this evening, because I neglected to tell them, whereas your parents know all about the party but were easily duped into believing it is in fact something it isn't by either Santana or Puck."

"At least my parents care enough to check and they know where I'm going to be tonight even if they don't know the full truth."

"I assure you the only reason my Dads are in the dark is because I know if they knew I was going to this party tonight, with a date no less, they would have missed their good friends' engagement party to stay home in case I needed them at any point throughout the evening. Whatever your Mom and Dad have said about the perils of gay adoption I promise you my parents are every bit as responsible as yours."

"This isn't about _that_."

But Rachel could see in her eyes that it was at least something to do with that and Quinn didn't add anything to refute it further.

She tried to lighten the mood. "I think, really, during this discussion, we've more proved what terrible daughters we are than how good or bad our respective parents happen to be."

Quinn gave her a small smile but the tension between them that had eased on entering the house was definitely back as they left it.

* * *

><p>They pulled up outside Puck's house at the same time as a dark green SUV. Rachel didn't recognize the car but she did the driver as Matt hopped out and gave them a quick wave. She was surprised to learn she knew his two passengers fairly well too.<p>

"I thought you said this wasn't a Glee party."

"It's not." Quinn was frowning as she turned the ignition off. "What the hell is Matt doing bringing them?"

Mike apparently had the answers, well some of them. "When I told him I was asking Rachel he figured it was okay to ask Mercedes." That sounded a little insulting but Rachel let it go. "He's wanted to ask her out even since before we joined Glee club but he never had the guts before. I don't know why Kurt's here though."

The three were clearly waiting for them so they exited Quinn's car to join them. Matt and Mike greeted each other with one of those boy handshakes that always looked extremely complicated to her and Finn punched Matt's shoulder in a friendly, but also inexplicable way, as they said hi.

Quinn, Rachel noticed, was hanging back from the hellos but Rachel stepped forward politely to meet Kurt and Mercedes.

"I didn't know you were going to be here."

Mercedes obviously read her enthusiasm as sarcasm. "What, you think you're the only one who can mingle with the cool kids?"

"No, I . . ."

"Ignore her," Kurt waved his hand dismissively. "She's just on edge because she thinks Matt is playing a prank on her. Which nicely sums up my presence at what I can only imagine is going to be a terrible evening."

Rachel shook her head, whispering, "He's not. Mike just told us he likes you."

"Oh." Mercedes smiled a little, looking mostly shell-shocked by this information.

"Does that mean I can go now?" Kurt asked.

Mercedes grabbed his arm in hers tightly. "No! Now you have to stay more than ever."

As Kurt rolled his eyes with a patient smile, Rachel gave them both a little grin and then made her way back to Quinn. It was only after she was beside the girl that she realized she probably should be standing beside her date instead.

Quinn only reinforced this by muttering, "You can't talk to me in there."

"I know."

"I don't mean to be a bitch, it's just . . ."

"I don't see why not, we should always play to our strengths, Quinn."

Rachel shot her a smirk that felt both natural and strange on her lips. It was _flirty_! She was fully ready for Quinn to knock her on her butt there and then for daring to be so, so the shock of receiving a smirk back almost knocked her there anyway.

"I kinda like you sassy, Berry. It's almost a turn on." Quinn winked and walked off to take Finn's hand.

The only thing that kept Rachel upright was Mike's arms suddenly catching her.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Mmfhh," was all she could manage.


	15. Out of the Frying Pan Into the Fire

**Chapter Fourteen:**

**Out of the Frying Pan (Into the Fire)**

Puck met them at the front door. "Wow, you're looking kinda there hot, Berry!"

Rachel blushed, even more so when Mike said, "Hey, eyes off of my date, Puckerman!"

And that was her introduction to her first high school party, because everyone close enough looked over and they all learned right away that their host thought she was looking hot and that she was Mike Chang's date. That and walking in with Quinn Fabray certainly smoothed her way into a party that even she knew she had no place being at.

Quinn had been right; other than her, Kurt and Mercedes, every kid there was either a jock, a cheerleader or someone at McKinley who managed to be cool without belonging to either clique. Rachel was finding it hard to shake the idea that it was a reunion for all the people who had ever slushied her or tortured her in some other equally demeaning but less frozen way.

At least she wasn't alone. Puck high-fived Matt as he came through the door but then laughed. "You brought two dates? Dude, I appreciate the kink, but threesomes are supposed to go 'girl, guy, girl' not 'guy, girl, guy'! Unless you're a chick, then you can mix it up however you want."

"I only invited Mercedes," Matt hissed. "She invited _him_."

"Sure, whatever, man." Puck's leer never lost its strength. "Beer's in the kitchen, help yourselves. Quinn, we gotta get you out of that Cheerios uniform, babe."

Rachel's eyes weren't the only pair that snapped to him. Quinn's beat hers by at least half a second and Finn was giving him a wounded puppy look.

"Dude, that's my girlfriend!"

Puck held his hands up. "I'm just saying that uniform, hot as it is, is getting boring. Don't you own any other clothes?"

Quinn growled in frustration. "Where did you say the beer was?"

Again three pairs of eyes snapped to attention to watch her retreating back, she wasn't first this time either but she was a very close second. Strangely enough Finn seemed to be last.

Because, apparently it was the first thing you were supposed to do at a party, she and Finn had the perfect excuse to follow Quinn into the kitchen. Puck, being the host, also had good reason to show them the way. The fact that Mike, Matt, Mercedes and Kurt all followed them was annoying but it wasn't like Rachel could tell them not to.

Finn was hovering silently by Quinn's side as she searched the fridge and Puck was leaning against the counter, arms crossed and clearly unhappy but equally as silent. Rachel really couldn't make him out, which wasn't unusual because Puck had been a complete mystery to her since the day she'd met him, but his reaction and now acute observation made her think he knew at least as much as she did about Quinn's situation.

Their silence was bothering her though. Okay, they had an audience, but one of them should be subtly trying to distract Quinn from drinking alcohol.

When they didn't she had no choice. "Quinn, do you really think . . ."

The Cheerio turned to glare at her so fast that Rachel forgot there was a table in-between them and stepped back. "Firstly, who gave you permission to talk to me, Stubbles? Secondly, don't ever presume to know what I'm thinking."

There were tense murmurs from many of the Glee club members present, the 'fight' from the day before still fresh in their memories.

Rachel was torn between backing down, because it really _wasn't_ her place to say anything and, because Kurt was watching, standing her ground and biting back.

Puck saved the day, in his own fashion. "Here, have a beer, Berry."

"I do not need alcohol to enjoy myself, Puck."

"Have one anyway. Might help the rest of us enjoy you." Puck twisted off the cap for her and held it out. "Go on, down it."

Rachel was about to decline again but then she caught the half-amused, half-disapproving look in Quinn's eyes and against all rational thought she took the bottle.

"Okay. Cheers, everyone!"

She drank from the bottle neck like it was water. It was cold and she didn't like the taste much and she hadn't ever realized that beer was fizzy but she had excellent control over her breathing and no gag reflex to speak of and triumphantly drank the entire bottle down in a series of lengthy swallows.

Only on her fifth gulp did she realize how stupid she was being to give in to peer pressure like this. By her seventh she'd stopped worrying so much about that and by the time the last of the beer was sliding down her throat she decided Puck's ridiculous hairstyle was obviously hindering his brain power in some way, making him an idiot, because Quinn's cheerleading uniform was pure _awesome_.

She hiccupped as she openly admired it, and the girl inside it who was glaring her down. She had such a pretty glare. Rachel wondered if anyone had ever told her that before. Somebody should, she decided.

"Wow, you are just _really_ unbelievably pretty, Quinn, I just . . . I just can't even . . ." The beauty was so overwhelming she couldn't even finish the sentence and trailed off in awed wonder.

* * *

><p>Quinn hoped her eyeroll was subtle and then turned her back on Rachel to search the fridge for any form of juice. She wasn't stupid, she knew she couldn't really have alcohol, but she didn't want people to start asking her why she was suddenly teetotal either. Her impatient request for a beer had been a ruse and those three idiots might as well have just blurted out the news of her situation with how obvious they were being.<p>

It occurred to her that now that Rachel was drunk – within ten minutes of arriving at the party, that had to be a new world record – she was only going to be less subtle about the pregnancy. And . . . other things, as her sudden proclamation had just proved.

Quinn was going to have to watch her like a hawk all night now so that she could intervene if Rachel opened her big stupid mouth; and, seeing as she clearly couldn't handle her alcohol, to stop her from dying or, you know, getting pregnant in Puck's bedroom.

She groaned, allowing her forehead to bump lightly against the refrigerator door as she pushed it closed. Babysitting Rachel Berry was _not_ how she'd planned to spend her evening.

* * *

><p>"I agree, it's complete insanity. Quinn Fabray giving Rachel Berry a ride to a party." Rachel tried unsuccessfully several times to untwist the cap on her beer. "I was surprised an earthquake didn't rip open the road and swallow me whole or a . . . a horde of singing zombies didn't swarm the car and eat my brains. But I'm still actually waiting for the disaster part of this disaster movie to befall me."<p>

Mercedes did the job for her and handed the bottle back. "I'm sure it's coming. This is Quinn we're talking about; let no good deed go without a full on major bad deed right behind it."

"Thank you." Toasting her with her beer, Rachel guzzled a mouthful or two. "You know, Mercedes, I'm just not so sure about that anymore. I mean, yes, obviously she is pure evil wrapped up in a hot sixteen year old body but sometimes . . . sometimes . . ."

"Sometimes?" Mercedes prodded, and then her eyes widened, "Uh-oh, disaster at twelve-o-clock."

"Right after news at eleven." Rachel giggled.

Unaware of what her fellow Glee-clubber was referring to and still thinking wistfully of a certain hot sixteen year old body, she raised her bottle to her lips for another gulp but it never made it there. It was snatched smoothly from her hand and then Quinn was walking away with it without even slowing down.

"Well, that was rude." Rachel stared from her empty hand to the back of the blonde's alluring cheerleading uniform and promptly forgot that she was upset about something.

"And lame. I thought she'd at least pour it over you."

"Mercedes, I'm going to ignore that you sound disappointed by the fact that she _didn't _pour it over me because I understand you must feel as nervous and out of place at this party as I do and to see me singled out for public humiliation would, no doubt, help you to relax in the knowledge that you are at least a level above me in the hierarchy of this social gathering."

"Uh, I guess."

"Well, cheer up, the night is still young and I'm sure it's only a matter of time before someone pours a drink over my head. Or, maybe even an entire bowl of potato salad, who knows."

Mercedes pointed both index fingers at her. "You're scary when you're drunk."

"It's very freeing, I highly recommend it." Rachel beamed as she patted her shoulder. "And now I'm going to further my search for freedom."

"What?"

"I'm going to get another beer."

* * *

><p>Sitting on the couch with Mike was nice, it was like they were in a little bubble surrounded on all sides by people standing up, a wall of backs and legs that made them feel secluded in the midst of everything. Yeah, a bubble, she decided again, sipping from her drink, but not a private bubble because someone was in here with them and it was making her nervously edge closer and closer to Mike.<p>

Mike was being very attentive without being too forward. He asked questions, listened to the answers and maintained very good eye-contact throughout but he had yet to show any physical affection. He hadn't even tried to put his arm around her since they'd sat down. A few hours ago she would have been pleased with how respectful he was being but she was feeling surprisingly tactile tonight and, really, what was the point of having a date if they didn't even try to sneakily hold your hand?

Thinking of sneaky hand-holding made her drift off for a second or two, or maybe it was longer because Mike suddenly paused his conversation with Brittany to ask if she needed another drink or anything.

"I'm fine, thank you, Mike." She sipped from her bottle to prove it. "I was just thinking about physical intimacy."

"Uh, ohhkay," he didn't seem to know whether that was a good thing or not.

Brittany leaned across her to stage-whisper. "I think she wants you to make out with her."

Rachel tensed, because even with liquid courage inside of her, having a Cheerio this close was scary. "No, I didn't mean that level of intimacy, after all this is only our first date."

"But you've already been on the date for like two hours. If I haven't reached at least second base by this time I get bored and go home."

"Okay," she squeaked, taking an instinctive gulp from her beverage. "But . . . but I don't have your levels of experience or expertise, Brittany, and while I greatly admire the way you embrace your sexuality I don't think I have quite the same . . . _daring_ as you do in this arena; yet, anyway."

"Okay," Brittany smiled at her. "Thanks . . . um . . ."

"Rachel," she prompted.

"Your name's Rachel?" Now she frowned. "Has it always been that?"

She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and used them to thank Mike instead when he distracted Brittany with talk of Mr. Schuester's choreography for _It Takes Two._ A few moments later she smiled when Mike's fingers curled around hers, loosely holding her hand. It wasn't _the same_but it was nice.

And then, her smile dropped and she gripped her bottle and Mike's hand more tightly and wondered where on earth the flash of guilt came from as she looked up to meet frosty hazel eyes.

"Move it, Manhands, I need to talk to Brittany."

"Manhands!" Brittany suddenly squealed. "That's what I thought your name was."

Quinn quirked a smile at her friend before glaring back at Rachel. "I said move."

"I'm actually quite comf . . ."

A hand swept down, reaching under her elbow and then she was up whether she wanted to be or not.

"Quinn . . ." Mike began.

She ignored his attempted interruption and pulled her further so that the loose grip of their hands was broken. "Losers don't get to sit on the couch. If you want to keep _holding his hand _you can sit on the floor by my feet . . . our feet, by _his _feet. Sit!"

Rachel snorted and spluttered, raising a hand to her mouth quickly but too late to cover it as Quinn mangled her order. The cheerleader's eyes narrowed and Rachel ducked her head because if she didn't stop smiling at her their fake fight the other day was going to look, well, fake by what Quinn would do to her now.

"Actually, I think I need to use the bathroom . . ."

Rachel started backing up but wasn't fast enough to keep her grip on her beer bottle. Quinn's long reach plucked it from her hand and then she sat down on the couch like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"You're welcome," Rachel said with as much sarcasm as she could muster when her lips were still trying to twitch into a smile.

Quinn tipped the bottle neck towards her in silent, mocking thanks before pressing it to her closed lips. If even a droplet made it into her mouth Rachel would have been surprised. It was a relief Quinn wasn't drinking, but it just made it that much more annoying that she kept stealing her beverages!

* * *

><p>"You know I really thought beer would taste disgusting, and don't get me wrong, it really does, but it's also rather moreish," Rachel explained to a cornered Kurt.<p>

As she was about to take another sip from her fourth beer a hand came out of nowhere, closing around the condensation-slick bottle and slipping it easily out of her grip.

"Thanks for the drink, RuPaul."

"Hey, that was mine!" she called after Quinn's back. She turned to lament on her fate with Kurt, "That was _mine_."

"And are you just going to let her get away with it?" he asked, a gleam in his eye.

"You think I should antagonize Quinn Fabray on her own turf?" Rachel grinned at him, still plenty tipsy even if she couldn't keep a drink for two minutes. "Now that really would be suicide."

"Of course not," Kurt wheedled, "if you're happy to accept the way she treats you then there's no reason to do anything at all. Why rock the boat? I'm sure stronger girls than you have quailed at the idea of standing up to her. You shouldn't feel bad."

Rachel frowned. "I can stand up to her. I do stand up to her."

"Of course you do, Rachel."

"You don't think I can? I'll show you. I'm going to get another beer and I'm drinking it, all of it, and watch out Quinn Fabray, because this boat is about to start rocking!"

Kurt smiled as she skipped away, knowing full well what he had just done. He did feel a twinge of guilt about it though, which was why he lightly touched Mercedes arm to get her attention as he slowly followed Rachel to the kitchen.

"Where are we going?" his best friend asked.

"To watch a show . . . and possibly try and prevent a bloodbath."

They saw a better show than they ever bargained for.

* * *

><p>The kitchen was so much quieter than the rest of the first floor of the house that Quinn actually breathed a sigh of relief as she entered, dropping Berry's beer onto the first available flat service and heading to the fridge for more juice.<p>

Finn and Puck were already in there, sitting at the square laminated table playing cards with two other jocks. They both looked up attentively when she came through the door, but she ignored them. The nausea was back – thanks to the combined smells of sweat, cheap aftershave, smoke and alcohol that was thick in the overheated living room already. Carrying half empty bottles of beer around for most of the night really wasn't helping either.

The orange juice was too sweet and she abandoned it after a couple of sips to pull a handkerchief out of her handbag. She was already down to one, having apparently snorted all of the goodness out of the other while in the Berry Bathroom. She should have brought all of them.

Puck was watching her, so after just a few delicate sniffs she folded it back up and tucked it away again.

"You alright?"

"Allergies."

He nodded like he didn't believe her but was thankfully distracted by someone else coming through the door and striding so purposefully into the kitchen that she knocked into the back of his chair.

Okay, scratch the 'thankfully' part.

"Berry!" His arm snaked out, catching the small girl by her far hip so that she swivelled on the spot to face him. "Did I tell you you look hot tonight?"

"Only three times, Puck, now if you would unhand me I . . ."

"Seriously, though, you've been holding out on us. Who knew you could look so fine out of school?"

Berry was blushing but it was hard to tell if it was at the compliments or just because she was embarrassed at the way Puck and the other two jocks – not Finn, though, he was deliberately staring hard at his cards now – were ogling her.

"Well, thank you for those kind words but I'm afraid I really can't take credit for my attire tonight. Quinn dressed me."

Quinn groaned.

"Sweet. Think I'd rather see her undress you though." His eyebrows jumped a few times and he high-fived the thickset moron sat beside him. "Know what I mean?"

Had he forgotten she was in the room? How dare he? Did he know? Had he guessed? Did he troll her MySpace page too and had seen their conversations?

Her eyes darted to Berry's face. '_Oh, please Rachel, drop dead of a killer brain fungus before you open your big mouth to answer that and I might even let you kiss me. . . once . . . no tongues . . . maybe a little tongue . . . not helping . . . please, Rach, don't let me down.'_

"I assure you I have no idea what you mean, Puckerman, but if I did I would tell you how inappropriate and disturbing such a suggestion is. The idea that I would ever have the poor taste and judgement to let Quinn Fabray ever do such a thing to me is, quite frankly, insulting."

Quinn's eyes narrowed. "Hey!"

Her eyes went comically wide when Rachel suddenly zeroed in on her voice and threw an arm up to point straight at her, saying, in what was a really booming voice for someone as small as she was, "You!"

"What about me?" she snapped back.

"Stop stealing my drinks! They're _my _drinks!" It was anticlimactic after the big start. Rachel dropped her arm and went about searching the kitchen. "Where is all the beer?"

"We're out," Puck explained. "Jackson and Tito left to score another case. Be here in a while. You can have some of mine while you wait if ya want."

Quinn saw that he was pouring a generous measure of vodka into a plastic cup and topping it up with cola even as Finn spoke up.

"Is that really a good idea?"

"She'll be fine; I'll keep an eye on her."

Oh, no way was that happening. She reached the table at the same time as Rachel politely accepted the cup. Quinn tried to snatch it out of her hand but, seeing her coming, Rachel danced back out of the way.

She was pointing again. "Ha, no, it's mine! I'm gonna _rock your boat_ tonight, Quinn, whether you like it or not!"

Quinn froze in shock. Had she really just said that? Out loud?

The other people in the kitchen were as wide eyed as she was, making it easy to hear the snickering coming from the doorway. She glanced over to see Mercedes and Kurt and the distraction was long enough for Berry to take a few loud swallows from her cup.

"Hmm, not as bad as the beer."

Suddenly the chuckling morphed into two disgruntled cries and then a Cheerios uniform was bursting into the kitchen and heading straight for Berry. It took a second for Quinn to realize it was Santana and then recognize the expression on her face – murder!

"You fucking little . . ."

The half-full cup leapt from Berry's hands and hit the floor, splashing its contents everywhere as the suddenly terrified girl threw herself back against the counter, her flailing elbows sending several semi-empty bottles skittering along its surface.

'_Whoa!'_

Without thinking Quinn lunged forward and grabbed Santana's upper arms, pulling her back sharply. Her extra inch of height and slight weight advantage – that she would never admit to, obviously – made it possible for her to bring her friend up short, but Santana was a hellcat, twisting and turning in her arms, spitting for Rachel's blood.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Let me at her, Fabray!"

"Calm. Down. Tell me why you want to kill her and if I think it's worth the assault charge she will no doubt bring against you, then I'll let you go."

"She called Brittany a slut!"

Quinn nearly did let her go. "You did what?"

"I called her no such thing!" The way Berry regained some bravery and indignantly straightened back up made Quinn think she was being falsely accused. "I was nothing but polite to Brittany when we spoke."

"Oh yeah, you think you can get away with it just because you wrap it up in fancy words that Britt doesn't understand? She might think you were being nice but, _Stubbles_, I know _exactly_ what your snide little comments meant."

"What snide little comments?" Rachel shot back. "Do you have an example? I'd like some proof of what I'm being accused of."

"You said she was a ho because she's slept with a lot more people than you – which hello, like that's hard, no one wants you anyway – and that you _admire _the way she doesn't give a shit and sleeps around."

Rachel blinked a few times, processing, reminding Quinn she was pretty drunk. "First of all, the only word of that that I actually remember using was 'admire' and I applied no negative connotations to it. I'll admit I was a little uncomfortable at Brittany suggesting _I_, um, go further than _I _amready to on my first date, but at no point did I suggest I thought less of Brittany for doing so."

"Huh?" Santana was still struggling in her hands but it was less violently now. "You think I'm going to believe that from a prude like you?"

"I am not a prude, Santana. Just because I have yet to meet someone with whom I want to have sexual relations does not mean I would be averse to doing so when I do. I was being sincere with Brittany; I do admire her ability to be in control of her sexual needs, and as long as she is physically and emotionally safe during her liaisons then it is of no concern to anyone but her and her chosen partner what they do in private.

"I'm sure that Brittany's open attitude to dealing with the subject of intercourse has actually led to her being one of the more sexually aware girls that we know, leaving her in good stead for dealing with the pleasures and pitfalls of such ventures. As I have said before, the teaching of abstinence is actually in some ways quite irresponsible, leading to people our age being completely unprepared for when those intense feelings of attraction hit us and making us prone to the downfall of sexually transmitted diseases and teen pregnancy."

Quinn had actually been lapping up her speech, just like everyone else in the kitchen, amazed and enthralled that Rachel could speak so candidly and passionately about a subject that most of them still found taboo even if they pretended otherwise. Those last couple of words had broken the spell though, because she'd _seen_ Berry's eyes flick to hers.

She held onto them with a glare, and then with a cruel smile, released Santana.

It was too late and the fight had gone out of the girl. She just stood there, giving Berry a confused frown.

"I told you she wasn't being mean," Brittany whispered loudly from the doorway.

"Yeah well," Santana shrugged. "Don't do it again! Come on Britt-Britt, let's go dance."

Barely ten minutes had passed since Berry had entered the kitchen but Quinn was reeling from everything that had happened. Struggling to hold Santana back alone had churned her insides up again and now she was left to notice it the nausea hit hard. She scrambled in her bag for the handkerchief, her fingers missing it the first few times in her haste. When it was over her nose she was dismayed to find it did nothing to help.

"Damn." She took a few deep breaths, trying to quell it.

Finn was up out of his seat. "Quinn, are you okay?"

She tried to nod but it didn't come across very well.

Now Puck was on his feet too. "Do you need to sit down? Jimmy, get out of your damn chair!"

"I'm fine," she bit out, hating the attention.

"You don't look very good, Quinn," Kurt stepped forward.

"Yeah, girl, you're all kindsa . . ."

Berry was the only one who hadn't said anything but her eyes were watching anxiously.

"I'm fine," she snapped again. "But Puck I need the key."

"Q, you know . . ."

"Give me the damn key!"

Puck went instantly into his pocket, producing a small key ring and handing it over. "Don't make a mess."

"I'll try not to, asshole!"

She started to leave the kitchen, and no one was more surprised than her when she suddenly turned back, lunged for Berry's wrist and pulled her after her – okay there might have been, oh five people more surprised, Berry being one of them.

She didn't protest though, allowing Quinn to drag her out of the back of the kitchen and down a small passage-way.

* * *

><p>"What in the hell was that about?" Mercedes asked once they were out of sight.<p>

Finn and Puck both shrugged.

"Oh, come on," she insisted, "That was first rate weird."

"Don't girls always go to the bathroom together?" Finn asked.

"Some girls, sure, not Rachel and Quinn."

"It is an anomaly," Kurt agreed, his guilt had actually stepped up a notch. "You don't think she's going to hurt her in there do you?"

Puck shrugged, "Maybe. Quinn does seem pretty dead set on breaking Berry tonight."

"Do you think we should go and help?" Kurt asked, shooting Mercedes a nervous look.

"Nah, I'm pretty sure Q can do the job on her own."

Now Finn shot Puck a look but he spoke to the other two. "They'll be fine. Quinn won't hurt her. I think she just wants to make sure Rachel's okay after Santana's flip out."

"Yeah, right," Mercedes chuckled like he was making a joke.

Puck took matters into his own hands. "Okay, anyone still in the kitchen in thirty seconds has to play strip poker." He shuffled the cards like an expert. "You know how to play, Mercedes?"

"Uh, no."

He leered at her, "Then sit down, Sugar."

"I don't think so!"

Kurt looked intrigued and was about to take a seat but Mercedes, looking completely traumatized, grabbed his arm and dragged him from the kitchen after her. Puck smirked before turning his leer on Jimmy and Faber.

"You guys in?"

They both left the kitchen at a dead run, faster even than Mercedes had. Grinning, Puck threw the cards on the table and sat back.

"I think it's morning sickness," Finn muttered once they were alone.

"Yeah."

"Why did she take Rachel with her though? She hates Rachel."

"I don't know, maybe she wanted someone to hold her hair back. Chicks are into that kind of thing when they throw up, right?"

They were silent for a minute until Finn said,

"I'd have done that for her if she'd asked."

"Screw that, it's my job."

Finn's eyes snapped to him. "What did you say?"

"How many beers have you had, Hudson? I said _screw that job_! I mean, she's blowing chunks right? Why put yourself through it, man?"

"True; it is kinda gross when you think about it."

Puck rolled his eyes and poured them both another drink.


	16. I Gotta Feelin' Tonight's the Night

Hi there, sorry for the long delay. I never meant to leave you hanging on that cliff for so long. I've been almost 14 days without internetage and its been driving me nuts, but I'm back now.

And, as always, thanks for the reviews! :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter fifteen:<strong>

**I Gotta feelin' (Tonight's the Night)**

At the end of the short passageway was Mrs. Puckerman's bedroom and Quinn had the door unlocked as quickly as possible. As soon as it was open she let go of Rachel's wrist and shoved the key at her. Hand over her mouth now, she couldn't speak but Rachel got the message and locked the door behind them, fast enough that she was still able to rush into the adjoining bathroom in time to see Quinn slide across the floor on her knees and bury her head in the toilet.

She actually wouldn't have minded missing the next few minutes.

What was she supposed to do? She didn't even know why Quinn had dragged her in here, so she spent the first minute just staring at the back of the cheerleader's head as it bobbed over the toilet bowl. Then she paced the small bathroom from sink to shower stall for another minute. When it was clear the girl's sickness wasn't passing quickly, Rachel worked up the courage to kneel behind her.

"Can I touch you?"

Quinn was having a moment of respite, but her arms were still crossed over the bowl, her forehead resting on them and she was breathing heavy.

"I'm not really in _that_ kind of mood right now, Berry."

Rachel's lips quirked in a little smile. "I was just offering to rub your back. It makes me feel better when I'm being sick."

She barely heard the soft, "Okay."

Rachel nodded and shifted slightly to one side so that she could comfortably rub circles on Quinn's lower back. It had the opposite effect of what she was going for and Quinn suddenly tensed up seconds before she started to be sick again. Unperturbed, she simply switched to pulling the loose strands escaped from Quinn's ponytail back from her face, tucking them behind her ears in soothing strokes. When the retching was losing its intensity she went back to rubbing the slow circles.

Quinn panted into the toilet bowl for a while before she was able to speak. "For someone who's never had a mom you're pretty good at this."

"I don't understand what difference that makes. My dads always do this for me when I'm sick."

"Probably because they're gay," Quinn muttered, retching again briefly before recovering and dropping her head back to her crossed wrists.

Stiffening, Rachel snatched her hand from Quinn's back. "If you're just going to insult my fathers then I don't know why I should help . . ."

"I wasn't!" Quinn looked over her shoulder, her usually pale face flushed and sweaty. "I just meant my dad would never do this. I mean, I can kind of remember when I was five and had the flu or something he stayed up with me all night, but it was only because my mom and sister had it too. It's always my mom's job; although _she's_ been conveniently not noticing how often I've been rushing to the bathroom just recently."

"Oh." Rachel wasn't sure how to respond to such a lengthy admission. "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions."

"Whatever."

Rachel rubbed her back again and a few minutes passed in silence. "Do you feel any better?"

"Not really. Can you wet a wash cloth for me?"

As she stood to do that, Quinn reached up to flush the toilet and then sat back on her heels. Rachel knelt back down beside her and handed over the dampened cloth. Quinn wiped her face, in particular her mouth, before throwing it back in the sink.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yeah, don't get any funny ideas."

Before she could even ask what that meant, Quinn's nose was buried in her neck, inhaling the blue wool shoulder of her cardigan.

Well, she hadn't been expecting _that_! Rachel threw her arms out to the sides, partly because the shock-factor had wobbled her balance and partly because the sentiment behind their 'No touching' rule had suddenly gained a great deal of significance

No funny ideas? Heh, okay.

She rolled her shoulders and fortified herself with a deep, calming breath . . . Oh, Quinn's hair smelled so pretty!

And she was doomed!

"Um," she pulled a dubious face but promised, "I'll try."

Quinn chuckled under her breath, "I'm really sorry, I just need a minute."

"Take all the time you want . . . not that I'm enjoying this . . . but if it helps."

"As unsettling as it is, it does."

"Do you still want me to rub your back?"

"If you feel comfortable with that, Berry, sure."

She didn't really, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to do it. As she started the slow circles back up she smiled because it was almost like they were hugging. Sure, Quinn's hands were firmly planted on the floor either side of her hips and one of her own hands was also braced down there now for balance, but Quinn's head was in her neck and her other arm was around Quinn's waist, hand on her back . . . yes, she was smiling . . . but definitely _not_ enjoying herself, she thought quickly as a precaution.

Quinn took an extra big sniff of her shoulder, nuzzling her nose deeper into the woollen fabric and her right hand came up off of the floor to clench some of the cardigan into her fist.

Okay, maybe she was enjoying it a little bit . . . and getting a few ideas. Should she say something? No, it wouldn't help Quinn to know and that was all that mattered until they left this bathroom.

Quinn felt her head shake. "What?"

"Nothing."

"_What?_"

Rachel spent a second coming up with a suitable and non-threatening-to-their-current-position question. "I was just wondering how you knew about Puck's secret bathroom."

Quinn chuckled again and Rachel felt it against her neck. "It's not a secret bathroom. It's just off-limits. Puck's Mom knows he has parties whenever she and his little sister are visiting his grandparents for the weekend. I guess she stopped trying to fight it and settled for giving him ground rules instead."

"Like?"

"Like he pays for anything that gets broken, the house is tidied up before she gets back, and no one goes into his sister's room or her room."

"And he abides by those rules?" It didn't sound like Puck.

"Well, I know he bought her a new TV about six months ago because some idiot put his foot through her old one and you saw how reluctant he was to give me the key for in here."

Rachel nodded, cheek brushing the side of Quinn's head. It could have been her imagination but she thought the hand gripping her cardigan pulled a little tighter, a little closer.

She thought about what she had noticed earlier and how Puck had given up the off-limits bathroom key reluctantly but without asking for an explanation.

"Does Puck know?"

There was a nod against her shoulder.

"How?"

No answer.

"Quinn?"

"How do you think? Finn told him. They're best friends."

"I take it you trust him not to say anything."

Quinn shrugged against her. "As much as I trust you."

It was blandly delivered and not the most confidence in her that could have been displayed but Rachel felt warmed by it anyway. Puck was one of Quinn's friends and while it wasn't a comparison she'd ever hoped for, she'd take being on a par with Puckerman under these circumstances.

She couldn't help her chuckle though.

"What?"

"I just never in a million years thought I'd be in the same boat as Noah Puckerman. You know, both knowing the biggest ever secret at McKinley High and not being able to say anything about it. Maybe we should start a support group for each other."

"Do you _want_ to say anything about it to anyone?"

Rachel shook her head vigorously, knowing Quinn would feel it. "No, I don't."

"Speaking about boats?" Quinn began, suddenly sounding uneasy. "What the hell were you thinking earlier?"

Rachel had no idea what she was talking about; her mind still full of a fantasy of her and Puck sitting in a circle (could two people make a circle?), drinking black coffee out of one of the those big metal urns and sharing war stories about Quinn's mood-swings and the price of fabric softener.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Quinn pulled her head back enough to give her a look of disbelief and mutter, "You know what! Announcing to everyone you were going to . . . to _rock my boat!_"

Rachel started laughing at Quinn's scandalized expression and the way she'd looked left and right as she whispered it, as if anyone could possibly be in here with them.

"It's not funny," she hissed next, slapping at Rachel's thigh. "I thought my head was going to explode!"

That just made it even funnier and as she remembered Quinn's bug-eyed expression at the time, the drink in her system further fueled her giggles and now she couldn't stop.

"It's not my fault," she defended herself. Clutching helplessly at Quinn's arm, she leaned into the cheerleader as the laughter made her weak and breathlessly insisted, "You should blame Kurt!"

"Excuse me?"

"He said . . . he said, I was sc-scared to stand up to you in case I . . . I _rocked the boat_." Shaking with the force of her giggle-fit, Rachel keeled helplessly over onto her back.

With the way they'd been leaning against each other, Quinn half-fell and was half-dragged down to the floor with her. With the reflexes of a Cheerio, Quinn just managed to catch herself with hands at either side of Rachel's shoulders before she had the misfortune of landing right on top of her.

_Mis_fortune?

Rachel snorted with laughter, slapping a hand against the linoleum beneath her back, at that gross misrepresentation.

"What is so funny?"

"_Mis_fortune is a _mis_nomer," she explained, trying her best to calm down and get her words out in a steady intelligible stream. "Like . . . like you falling on _top _of me could ever be unfortunate. I expect it would feel like our whole bodies were holding hands. Imagine that, Quinn, full-body sparkles! That would be awesome. Don't you think that . . . would . . . be . . . um." It was the way Quinn's eyes were going so big and wide and bewildered that finally clued her in. "And you were still talking about Kurt! Oh Barbra!" On some level she knew she should be embarrassed but she couldn't stop laughing long enough about her mistake to be so. "You . . . you have to promise to delete that! Delete the sparkles, Quinn!"

"Trust me, I would if I could and I'm not talking about Kurt. I'm talking about your apparent desire to rock my boat tonight? Why would you _tell_ anyone that?"

Maybe it was something in her voice, the serious tone of the question. Or maybe it was the intensity of the eye contact between them as Quinn made no move to shift out of the awkward position of being on her hands and knees above her. The laughter caught in Rachel's throat and she had to nervously gulp it down to speak.

"Um, I don't know. I didn't think it was a big deal. Kurt was goading me into confronting you, for his own amusement no doubt, and you kept stealing my drinks. He dared me to . . . to rock the boat. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let him provoke me."

"Rock _the _boat?"

"Yes, sorry."

"So you didn't mean . . .?"

"Uh?" Rachel didn't know what she meant anymore, she was too busy getting sucked into the beauty of Quinn's eyes. "What?"

"I thought you were talking about . . ."

She was growing no less confused with all of these open-ended sentences. "What?"

"Nothing, it doesn't matter."

"Can I ask you a question now?"

"Sure."

"Why _do_ you keep taking my drinks away? Anyone would think I was the pregnant one."

"Because you're already drunk and drunk people say things they shouldn't, and with your brain to mouth filter already useless I don't plan to take any chances with you."

"Pfft, I'm not drunk!" She waved her arm to show how ridiculous she found the notion and slapped Quinn in the face. "Oops."

Chuckling, Quinn shifted away and Rachel felt that she had very good thought-to-mouth communication, thank you very much, because she stopped herself from begging the cheerleader to stay right where she was. It paid off in the form of Quinn dropping onto her elbow beside her and stretching her legs out.

'_We're laying down next to each other and Quinn Fabray has her head on my shoulder!'_

Okay, so technically it was her nose, but still!

This was the greatest party ever. And she _loved _morning sickness! Morning sickness was the best. When she was famous she was going to become the Morning Sickness Spokesperson to the UN! If it could unite her and Quinn like this just think what it could do for the warring nations of the world.

"Berry, you downed your first ever bottle of beer in one go, which was phenomenally stupid by the way, and then you told me I was pretty!"

Rachel started giggling again, although now it was mostly from the embarrassment catching up with her. "Okay, maybe I'm a little bit drunk, but it's not like I was doing anything other than making an astute observation. You are pretty."

"I know, but the last person I want acknowledging that out loud right now is you. Not to mention your barbed little comment at the end of your sex speech."

Quinn poked her hard in the side making her squirm away but she only got so far before her wrist was grabbed and she was pulled back into position, or a slightly different position. Quinn's head was exactly where it had been but now she was inhaling her pink t-shirt where it covered her collarbones.

Rachel glanced down at her before focusing on the ceiling and distracting herself with what Quinn was accusing her of.

"That comment was most certainly not barbed. It was just an effective way to wrap up the topic."

"You looked straight at me when you said 'teen pregnancy'!"

"I did no such thing. And besides, you released Santana in response knowing full well her desire to kill me, so I consider us even."

"I didn't let go of her because of that, your comment just happened to coincide with the same moment I got bored of holding her back."

"You're lying. I saw that evil glint in your eye. I know that evil glint very well."

"How do you know what kind of glint was in my eye if you weren't looking at me?"

Rachel looked up to give her a smile but it was lost on the top of Quinn's head. "Well, like I said, we're even."

"Okay, my turn to ask a question: Did you just _smell_ my hair?"

Rachel thought about denying it but just shrugged instead. Pointing a finger at Quinn's nose, she said, "Pot." And then pointed to her own nose. "Kettle."

Rachel felt the warm breath of Quinn's chuckle roll over the side of her neck and she was pretty sure she left claw marks in the linoleum of Mrs. Puckerman's bathroom floor as a result.

"At least I have a good reason."

"So do I."

"And that would be?"

Rachel shrugged again. "It smells nice."

"Not as nice as you . . . I mean your neck . . . I mean shoulder! . . . uh, t-shirt . . . your t-shirt!" Rachel started laughing and when Quinn groaned out, "_Shit_." She started laughing harder. "Stop it!" She was writhing with her laughter now and Quinn reached over and grabbed her shoulder, hard, to hold her still. "Seriously, stop laughing at me or you won't make it out of this bathroom alive."

"I'm sorry!" The bruising clutch of Quinn's fingers brought her out of her drunken giggle fit, a little. "It's just you're normally so calm and collected, every look chosen for maximum effect, every word carefully thought out. It's a strange experience to see you without your usual perfect poise."

"Yeah, well it's hard to project perfect poise when your life feels like it's upside down. _I_ don't even understand what's going on in my head. Sometimes I don't think I'm even me anymore and it's . . ." Quinn's voice faded on the last sentence until she trailed off completely.

She stopped trying to leave bruises on Rachel's shoulder but her hand still lay there innocently; her arm dropping to be a light, relaxed pressure across Rachel's ribs.

When she continued her voice was strong and clear again. "So I try _harder_ to be me, like today, but that doesn't feel right either. In fact it feels even worse. Maybe being scared is all part of the big thing I've been waiting for and I just need to live with it."

"How do you mean?"

The silence (well, apart from the muffled party noises coming through the walls and Quinn's intermittent sniffing) stretched on so long Rachel didn't think she was going to get an answer. She didn't really expect an explanation anyway. From what she knew Quinn didn't do long, rambling answers; that was more her own style.

"You'll probably think this is stupid, or conceited or something but . . . maybe I've just had it too easy for the last few years. When I started McKinley my goal was to make head cheerleader by senior year and Coach Sylvester handed me the crown after my first semester. When Finn made Quarterback I gave myself a month to make him mine, it took three days, and I fully believe it would have taken one day if I'd had the courage to make the move that quickly."

Rachel stared wide-eyed up at the ceiling. Already shocked that Quinn was opening up to her like this at all, the admission that she'd been nervous about staking a claim on Finn was mind boggling. Quinn never showed any kind of weakness to anyone, least of all Rachel. And it was ridiculous, because who didn't want Quinn Fabray? She could have anyone.

_Anyone!_

"Maybe I've had it too easy," Quinn repeated. "I set myself all these challenges and then they just fall into my lap. I was starting to feel like I was stuck in a rut at sixteen, how stupid is that?"

"Fairly stupid."

"Hey!"

"You know it is." Quinn nodded slightly and Rachel felt the brush of a nose against her skin, just above the neck of her t-shirt, and it made her insides quiver. "So you've been waiting for something big to come along or . . . or a new challenge and you feel like it finally has?" More nose brushing. "Well, I can certainly see how carrying Finn's baby is both big and challenging but . . ."

"I'm not talking about that."

The only time Rachel had heard Quinn's voice go as soft as that had been the day before . . . behind the workshop. "Oh."

Quinn obviously didn't like something about her tone because her head shot up and the sharpness to her voice was back. "I'm not talking about anything else either, Berry. I'm just . . . I don't know, venting to a captive audience or something."

"I understand."

Quinn nodded tersely before dropping her nose back to Rachel's t-shirt and inhaling deeply.

"Things have been confusing for me recently too."

"Why would I care if you're confused?"

Rachel ignored that. "For the last three weeks I haven't known what to expect. Before I did, you know? I could plan my day around slushie facials, name-calling and all the mysterious tripping over of invisible objects that I do in the hallways. I knew the routine. Now the routine has all changed and I feel like I have a pet . . . a pet _wolf_ – all wild and vicious and beautiful – and I never know at any given minute whether she'll let me stroke her tummy or tear my throat out if I so much as look at her."

"Okay, first of all, if you ever try and _stroke_ _me_ and I _will_ tear your throat out." Quinn's quiet laughter against her collarbone was making the threat much less scary than it might have been intended. "And second of all, I am not your _pet_ anything, Berry!"

Rachel grinned, "Okay, let me try another analogy. You're like the hot cheerleader version of Jekyll and Hyde. I'm really starting to be concerned that you have a dual personality disorder. I never know what to expect from you next and half of me likes it and half of me hates it."

Quinn's whole face had been pressed to her t-shirt as she tried to stifle her amusement but now she raised it just enough to be heard, "You realize you've now called me pretty and beautiful and hot all in the same night? Anyone might think you have a little crush after all."

Smirking, Rachel raised her head again to reply. "Then you will just have to inform _Anyone _that they are wrong."

"That would almost be Oscar-worthy, if you hadn't just smelled my hair . . . _again_."

"I can't help it, it's right there!"

Giggling, Quinn pushed up on her elbow a little to look at her. "You're such a bad liar."

"You're not that great at it yourself." Rachel was also giggling again, but mostly because Quinn's face was mere inches from her own and it was making her heart race and her pulse fizz and she was suddenly getting some really bad funny ideas.

"Sure I am, I can lie like a pro. I have a lot of experience."

A few strands of blonde had fallen loose and were tickling Rachel's chin so she pushed them gently back behind Quinn's ear. "In what kind of lies?"

"The ones I tell myself," Quinn whispered, tilting her head slightly to better accept Rachel's gesture and _Oh, holy Barbra!_

Rachel was already raising her head from the linoleum, preparing to seize the moment, when she saw the panicked expression in Quinn's eyes and realized she'd read the _moment_ completely wrong.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry!" she started in a rush, frantic to get her excuses out before Quinn could get angry. "I swear I wasn't going to . . .!

"No, wait!" Quinn said at the same time, just as frantic. "I need to brush my teeth first!"

Drunk as she was that sentence pierced the alcoholic fog like a high F. Quinn had said _wait _not _stop _and . . . A different type of fog filled her brain, one where she couldn't see past those words to the meaning behind them.

"What?" was the best she could manage.

Quinn's eyes suddenly looked huge. "What?"

"First?"

"What?"

"You said first, what comes second?"

"I never said first!"

"You did."

"I didn't!" Quinn pushed herself up and on to her knees. "What would I . . .?" She swallowed hard. "Why would I say first?"

Rachel sat up. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"You're delusional and . . . and did you just try to _kiss _me?"

"Are you trying to pretend you didn't want me to?"

"No! No, don't project your _sick_ fantasies on me, Manhands! This is what I get for lowering myself enough to be friends with you!" She could see Quinn's hands were shaking as she tried to pull her inner bitch to the fore. "I-I really should have known better."

"You didn't want to be friends, remember?" Rachel had been angry at Quinn plenty of times, on average about three times a day since they'd known each other, but she could never remember being this incensed. How _dare _she try and turn this on her! "You just want to hold my hand and stuff in private so you can lie to yourself it never happened."

"You're freaking insane. Like I'd ever want you anywhere near me!"

Rachel saw red and it was almost a pity Kurt wasn't around to see how hard she was about to rock this boat!

"Maybe not, but you want _this._"

She lunged forward, grabbing Quinn's shoulders, but before she could bring their lips together as intended a fist powered into her chin and then she was sprawling back across the bathroom floor.

It hadn't even hurt, it was more the shock and drunken clumsiness that had sent her flying, but the way Quinn was staring at her in guilty shock was of absolutely no consolation.

Tenderly holding her chin, Rachel staggered to her feet. "I _hate _you."

"I hate you _more_. Now _fuck _off."

She didn't need telling twice and stormed out of the bathroom and then the bedroom, leaving the door wide open. If anyone trashed Mrs. Puckerman's room then Quinn could take the damn blame.

* * *

><p>Quinn stayed on the bathroom floor after Berry had stormed out. She felt sick all over again but she knew this time it had nothing to do with morning sickness. It was because of what she'd almost done <em>and<em> because of what she _had_ done. She'd roughed the girl up a few times but she'd never actually punched her before.

'_Berry had it coming!'_

See, she _was_ a brilliant liar, because she almost believed that.

Groaning, she reached into her bag for a handkerchief, but as soon as it was over her nose she knew it wasn't going to be of any help. It just wasn't as good as the real thing; not after having her nose pressed against the _real thing _for half an hour.

Slowly she got to her feet and spent ten minutes just staring at the reflection of the other side of the room in the mirror – it was safer than looking at her own reflection right now. She told herself she was stalling because it wouldn't look good if they joined the party at the same time after being absent for so long, but really it was because she just had no desire to move. Moving would mean leaving the bathroom and leaving the bathroom would mean having to see Rachel.

'_What is _wrong_ with me?'_

Eventually she used the wash cloth on her face again – no one but her would know it was to wipe away tears – and then squeezed some of Mrs. Puckerman's toothpaste onto her finger and scrubbed it around her teeth. She used the mouthwash too, just for good measure.

When she finally felt put back together enough to re-join the party, she made up her mind to head straight for Finn and not leave his side for the rest of the night.

* * *

><p>When Rachel stormed through the kitchen Puck was still there, with two Cheerios she didn't know well enough to be on first name terms with. She was pretty sure one of them was a senior and she was also pretty sure both of them had been kissing his neck until she'd interrupted.<p>

"Puck, can I please have some more of your drink?"

"There's beer now, Berry."

"But yours is stronger, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I feel in the need for something extremely strong."

He shrugged and reached behind him for the bottle on the counter. As soon as it was in her hand she tried to guzzle it as she had the beer earlier but, oh God, it tasted so much worse without the cola. After two mouthfuls she handed it back, spluttering wetly – which caused both cheerleaders to glare and shrink away from her.

"So did you and Q have fun?" Puck asked and there was a leer in his voice that Rachel really didn't care for.

"You know Quinn better than I do, Puckerman, does anyone ever have fun in her company?"

The leer was visible now. "Sure, sometimes."

"Then I have obviously just not yet had the pleasure of experiencing it."

Mike came through the door then in search of another beer but on spying Rachel changed his plan. "Hey, do you wanna dance?"

"I would like that very much." She took his offered hand but Puck's hand on her shoulder stalled her.

She was very surprised when he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Is she okay though?"

"Aside from being a complete psychopath . . . I think she's fine now," she whispered back and then let Mike pull her away.

"What was that about?" he asked as they entered the even louder than before living room.

"Just Puck being Puck," she lied, not caring enough to put any real effort into it.

She danced with Mike for an hour, with a short interlude when Brittany grabbed her hand and they performed the routine they were supposed to be learning for Sectionals. She noticed Quinn walk into the room just as they got to the part where they turned slowly together in each other's air space, but Quinn just sneered as their eyes met and walked away. Rachel rolled her eyes in response and kept dancing.

Later, out of breath and still buzzing, she found herself sat between Mike and Kurt on the couch. She was sipping on a strawberry wine cooler, which was the best tasting drink so far. It probably wasn't wise to mix her drinks - hadn't she read that somewhere? - but the bottle was half gone and she didn't even care.

"But I don't get why she took you with her," Kurt said for the third time.

"I was the closest female for her to grab." Rachel had been giving the same kind of answer each time.

"Did she hurt you or anything?" Mike asked.

She'd already checked in the chrome plate of the kettle so she knew there was no bruise forming on her chin yet. "No. She just wasn't feeling well and wanted someone there with her," she explained to both of them. "Believe me, she regretted her choice of someone's and I regret allowing her to drag me after her. A confused Quinn Fabray is extremely mean."

"Confused?" Kurt asked, eyebrow arching.

"I said 'queasy'." And with the volume of the music and people's voices he was hard pressed to disbelieve her.

"Well, she seems okay now."

Kurt looked over to see what Mike meant, Rachel didn't need to, she was already looking. Quinn was making out with Finn, enthusiastically, against the far wall. It occurred to her that she had never seen them do this before. Sure, she'd seen them kiss a thousand times in the halls at school and in Glee even, but those had all been superficial pecks. Now it looked as though Quinn was trying to pull his tonsils out of the back of his throat with her tongue.

It was really quite repulsive.

And it was making her lower abdomen churn in a weird way.

She didn't like it.

Apparently Puck didn't either when he finally came out of the kitchen, "Get a freakin' room, guys. But not in this house!"

Despite the fact that he looked like was barely able to keep up with his girlfriend's vigorous display of affection, Finn gave his best friend the finger.

Brittany suddenly bounced into Rachel's line of sight – so between her and Quinn. "No, they totally have the right idea. We should play Spin the Bottle!"

"I'm in," Puck leered.

"Me too," Santana was also leering.

"I'm game," Kurt chuckled nervously beside her.

"In!" Mercedes and Matt said at the same time, grinning shyly at each other.

"What about you, Rachel?" Mike asked when she didn't automatically jump at the chance to play. "We don't have to."

Quinn suddenly pulled away from Finn, leaving him mentally staggering by the looks of it, but whether it was at the prospect of the game or because her tongue was now just extremely tired, Rachel didn't know.

She did a second later, when Quinn met her eyes and said, "We're in."

"We are?" Finn asked, grinning. "Cool."

Rachel rolled her eyes again at Finn thinking he had anything to do with Quinn's participation.

The decision having been taken out of her hands, she smiled at Mike, "I've always wanted to play Spin the Bottle."

"Anyone else?" Puck called over the music.

There was a loud chorus of 'No's' from the rest of the Cheerios and jocks present and Puck shrugged with a muttered, "Losers! Okay, we'll play in the kitchen. Come on, guys."

Following behind Mike, Rachel couldn't pinpoint what emotion she was feeling right now – she was a confusing jumble of angry, excited and nervous. The only thing she was sure of was that this game was going to be . . . _messy_.

* * *

><p>Quinn didn't know why she'd agreed to this stupid game. She'd already been kissing the only person she wanted to kiss before it had even been suggested. Now she was sitting across the table from Rachel-freaking-Berry and listening to these Glee losers catcall as Mercedes and Mike shared the chastest kiss known to mankind.<p>

Mike sat back in his seat, giving Berry a sickeningly apologetic smile, before taking his turn to spin the empty bottle of vodka on the table. She subtly watched Rachel's reaction rather than the spin of the bottle. The girl was grinning, not in the least bothered her date was about to kiss someone else, and then the smile suddenly dropped like a rock. Quinn was only aware of why when the new catcalls started, all including her name.

She looked down to see the bottle pointing squarely at her, and smirked. "Okay, Chang, time to find out what a real woman kisses like."

He looked nervous but joined her in standing up and leaning over the small table. Quinn shot a triumphant look at Berry just before taking his face in her hands and laying one on him. It wasn't much less chaste than his kiss with Mercedes, but she made sure it lasted longer.

He looked dazed when he sat back down. So did Rachel. Quinn smirked some more as she twirled the bottle.

It landed on Finn. Smiling delightedly, she turned to her boyfriend and gave him a real kiss, a _real_, real kiss. She ignored the general laughter, but Rachel's muttered, "Puck was right, get a room." just spurred her on to keep it going.

When she finally let him go, Finn was so over-excited he flipped the bottle right off of the table. It landed in Brittany's lap.

"Well, I guess there's no doubt who that spin was intended for," Kurt said dryly.

Grinning goofily still, Finn leaned over to give Brittany a peck on the lips. It wasn't his fault Brittany literally didn't know the meaning of chaste. Quinn laughed as he got a full on smacker and tried not to think about the tongue that was most likely involved too.

Brittany's spin landed on Santana, hardly a surprise seeing as they were as good at this game as she was – they'd spent months practicing their spinning abilities in middle school in preparation for the time they'd get to play for real.

As the two Cheerios kissed, they garnered even more vocal appreciation and Quinn rolled her eyes.

Santana spun Puck, once again proving her expertise, but when it was Puck's turn to spin all hell broke loose.

"What? No way! Doesn't count."

Kurt stayed quiet, looking slightly fearful.

"Like hell it doesn't count," Santana snapped, "I kissed Britt!"

"Yeah but . . ." Puck took a second to gather himself. "Actually, you know what? I read stuff; I know what homophobia really means. I'm down with the chicks, you _all know _I'm down with the chicks, so what's the big, right? So, come on, Kurt, lay one on me."

"I . . . ah . . . I'm not sure. . ."

"Jeez, man, don't be such a pussy!" There was only Mercedes sitting between them so it was easy for Puck to lean over and kiss Kurt. It lasted longer than her kiss with Mike but not as long as Finn's kiss with Brittany.

Puck sat back down, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth, "See, no big deal."

"Did I see a little tongue?" Santana teased.

"Maybe. Why, did it turn you on?" Puck shot back.

"A little, yeah."

Quinn turned to Kurt, who was looking completely shell-shocked, and smirked as she reminded him, "Your turn."

"Oh . . . right." He spun the bottle. "Oh . . . crap."

Quinn didn't bother to hide her laughter at his reaction.

"I'll have you know I could be a very good kisser," Rachel snapped. "But whether I am or not, you still have to kiss me."

With a sigh of dread, Kurt stood and leaned over the corner of the table. "Just know, that unless you become extremely famous, this will not be in my memoirs."

"You won't even rate tonight's entry in my diary, Kurt."

Considering everything that had happened, Quinn believed that.

The two kissed with pursed lips and it was more awkward looking than Mike kissing Mercedes.

When Rachel sat back down, her big grin was back and she spun the bottle enthusiastically. So enthusiastically that it went around five times and everyone was getting apprehensive about where it might stop.

It stopped on Finn.

Rachel looked smug. Finn looked nervous and Quinn knew that look. It was the look he got when he wanted something he was scared to ask for, like when he wanted to go to second base with her.

"No."

"Why not?" Rachel shot back. "It's just a game, Quinn."

"I said no. Spin again, RuPaul."

"Why? No one else has had to spin twice."

"Spin again or I'll make you swallow that bottle."

"That'd be hot."

Everyone turned to Brittany for a second before looking back at the tension building between her and Rachel.

"Fine." Rachel placed her finger and thumb back on the bottle. "But if you're really so insecure about your relationship with Finn, maybe that's something you should address."

She spun the bottle before Quinn could make a scathing comeback. It landed on Finn again.

"No!"

Rachel didn't even argue this time, just heaved a deep sigh, took a long swallow from her wine cooler and spun the bottle again.

It landed where it really, really, _really_ shouldn't have landed.

It was also where she'd kind of been hoping it would land, true, but now that it had . . . this was bad. She couldn't do this. If she couldn't do it in a locked bathroom, she definitely couldn't do it now.

Why didn't she just let the dwarf kiss Finn?

Oh God, she was doing the pointing thing again, this wasn't going to be good.

"Ha! You only get one veto!"

Quinn groaned as either side of her people muttered about there being no veto rule and hadn't Quinn technically had two already and if Quinn kept vetoing Rachel's spins did that mean the rest of them could too if her next spin landed on them?

"I make the rules, Berry, not you, and I get anything I want."

"Not anything, Quinn, there are limits to what even your _charms _can accomplish."

Quinn's eyes narrowed. "No, there really aren't."

"So are you two gonna kiss or what?" Puck asked.

"No, I think I should just spin again."

There were several groans around the table now; the rest of them wanted a damn go!

Quinn used their reaction to ask, "Scared to kiss me, Berry?"

Rachel met her eyes head on. "Not in the slightest."

"Then come on, let's get it over with." Quinn stood up. She could do this if it meant kissing Manhands, she decided, it was the idea of kissing _Rachel _that freaked her out. "This is actually exciting; I've never kissed a drag queen before."

The insult pulled Rachel out of her seat, fists balled at her sides. "That doesn't surprise me; some Barbie's come in a box and stay in them their entire plastic little lives."

"Wow, did Stubbles just show her claws?" Santana sounded impressed.

Quinn was too, with a side of furious.

She laughed it off, placing her hands on top of the table and leaning across. "Then why don't you show me what I've been missing _outside of the box_."

A shrug of her shoulders pushed her tight Cheerios shirt into better view and framed it with her bare upper arms. A practiced shake of her head not only flipped her pony-tail about playfully but also tilted her face in an alluring way. Up went the sexy eyebrow. The only thing she kept of her previous expression was the cold smirk on her lips, because that was just going to make it so much better when Rachel gave in and kissed her in spite of it.

And she was about to any second now. She was totally hooked! Staring at Quinn, licking her lips, taking a tiny step forward and then another one as her hands played nervously together in front of her before reaching to lean on the edge of the table.

"Well, come on then, Manhands, what are you waiting for? _Kiss_ me."

Poof!

Damn, she'd gone too far and the moment was over.

"Actually, I'm not feeling very well. I think I'm just going to call my Dad to pick me up." Rachel stumbled back from the table. "Thank you for welcoming me into your home, Puck. Mike, I'm sorry to cut our date short, I promise you I had a wonderful time. I'll see you all on Monday."

Berry didn't even look at her as she left the room, heading for the front door.

"Aw, it's a shame the idea of kissing you made her feel sick, Quinn."

Her eyes snapped to Brittany, not sure if the insult was intended or innocently delivered. She sank back down in her chair. "It was completely mutual."

"I don't know, you seemed pretty into the idea of kissing _her_," Puck teased.

Where was the line of over-reaction? She settled for rolling her eyes and calmly reminding him, "Kissing is the point of the game; and after your little speech before kissing _Kurt _I could hardly refuse, could I?"

"And you totally messed with her head too," Santana laughed. "By the time you'd finished I didn't know whether she was going to start humping your leg or blow her stupid rape whistle."

Quinn chuckled, because that was exactly how Berry had been looking before making her excuses and rushing off to call her Dad for a ride.

Something about that sentence jarred her. What was she forgetting? As soon as she remembered she wished she hadn't because now she had to something about it.

"She's not calling her Dad."

"What? How do you know?" Finn asked.

"They're out tonight. Out of town out. And they don't know their precious little princess is at her first girl/boy party either. There's no way she's calling them."

"Well, why did she say she was?" Mercedes asked.

Quinn shrugged like she didn't have a clue. "She said she wasn't feeling well. Maybe she wanted to throw up in Puck's bushes without an audience."

Finn shrugged hopefully. "So maybe she'll come back in when she's done."

"Or she'll try and walk home."

Halfway across Lima. At eleven-thirty on a Friday night. Drunk.

"Well, she has her rape whistle," Santana said like the conversation was done and reached for the bottle.

"I . . . I should go and walk her home, right?" Mike checked, starting to stand.

That was a terrible idea!

"You're drunk, she's drunk and now you know she has an empty house for the next few hours. I don't think so, Chang."

"Hey, what are you accusing me of?"

"Being a teenage boy." She got to her feet like it was the biggest hardship ever. "I brought her; I suppose I should make sure she gets home. I'll be back in a little while."

"Do want me to come with you?"

As she reached down to pick up her bag she gave her boyfriend a soft kiss on the lips. "No, you stay here. You deserve to let loose tonight. You've earned it. I'll be back soon."


	17. The Dark Side of the Moon

Hi guys. My internet is still playing up :( Our boiler has also packed up twice in the past week (and those things are expensive!) but I probably can't blame the delay for this chapter on that. Anyway, big, big thanks for all the reviews your leaving. I'm reading them even if I haven't had a chance to reply individually and each and everyone makes my day :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen:<strong>

**I Watched the World Go To The Darkside of the Moon**

Once outside, finding Berry was almost too easy. The girl was leaning against Quinn's car and scrolling through her phone.

"Were you waiting for me? How did you know I'd come out after you?"

Rachel looked startled by her voice and quickly stepped away from the car to stand fully on the sidewalk.

"I wasn't waiting for you. I was simply about to call a cab as my getaway car before scratching _'Quinn Fabray is a Bitch'_ into your paint work."

"Why don't you tell the world something they don't know?"

She only just heard the muttered, "What? Like _'Quinn Fabray is Bi-curious'_?" and decided it was safer to pretend she hadn't.

"You won't get a taxi this late on a Friday night."

"So I am learning."

"I'll give you a ride home."

"I'd rather walk." Rachel turned on her heel to do just that.

"And I'd rather not feel responsible for your body floating to the surface of Hog Creek tomorrow." She pressed the small remote to unlock the doors. "Get in the car."

"No." She kept walking along the sidewalk, or zigzagging across it actually. "Because I'm sure if I do that that's exactly where I'll end up."

"I'm not going to chase you, Berry."

"Good. You stay. I'll leave. " Rachel threw up her hand in a wave. "Bye, Quinn!" Rachel walked into a trash can. "I'm okay, I'm okay!" Rachel staggered back from the impact, veered off the sidewalk and tripped over a garden gnome. "Ow."

Quinn leaned against the side of her car, laughing, as Berry pushed herself back up from flat on her front to her hands and knees on the neighbor's lawn. When she was unsteadily on her feet, the cheerleader called out to her.

"Okay, forget rapists and serial killers, you've just proven that you're the real danger to yourself if you try and walk home. Come get in the car."

"I can't hear you," Rachel sing-songed and then spent a minute trying to find her way back to the sidewalk in the dark. "Ah, there it is!"

"Berry, please?"

"Please? Ha!" Rachel scoffed.

She took two steps back towards her, realized she was going the wrong way and spun around to resume her walk home. She threw her head back as she walked and Quinn knew what that meant. Rachel's clear voice filled the empty street just a few moments later.

"_You left me hanging from a thread we once swung from together  
>I've licked my wounds but I can't ever see them getting better."<br>_

She was singing Maroon 5? Seriously?

"_Something's gotta change  
>Things cannot stay the same."<em>

The girl wasn't censoring herself in any way and every high note bounced off of the mostly dark houses until Quinn felt surrounded by the song.

_"Her hair was pressed against her face, her eyes were red with anger_  
><em>Enraged by things unsaid and empty beds and bad behavior<em>  
><em>Something's gotta change<em>  
><em>It must be rearranged, ohhh."<em>

Okay, that was it. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had incited this spontaneous solo and she was not having Berry singing about whatever was going on with them in the street – or anywhere else, but especially not in the damn street.

Rachel was maybe thirty yards down the road now and Quinn took off running.

"_I'm sorry, I did not mean to hurt my little girl  
>It's beyond me, I cannot carry the weight of the heavy world<em>

_So goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, goodnight . . ."_

Finally reaching her, Quinn snagged her with one arm around her waist and slapped her other hand over her mouth.

"Are you insane!" she whispered in the shorter girl's ear. "It's nearly midnight. Someone's going to call the cops."

Rachel struggled in her grip and she was almost as hard to keep hold of as Santana. She was like an eel. Quinn had to release her mouth, needing both hands to drag her back to the car. That proved to be a mistake.

". . . _goodnight, goodnight, goodnight . . ."_

Hand back over mouth! "Stop singing!" Cautiously she pulled her hand away again.

"Unhand me, QUINN! How many more times do I have to tell you I'M NOT INTERESTED!"

Oh she was going to kill her. She was going to strangle her with her bare hands, or choke her to death on the sheet music for 'Goodnight, Goodnight', or beat her to death with a garden gnome, and then she was going to put the body in the trunk of her car, drive across three states and bury it in the desert. She had the time, it was Saturday tomorrow.

The fact that she was blushing and biting back a grin instead of being consumed by an ice-cold rage was something she could come to terms with on the long drive. And if not, she could just bury herself next to Berry.

Her voice showed no trace of her amusement however as she tried to force Rachel all the way back to her car. "One more word out of you, Manhands, and you'll wish you had met with a watery grave tonight."

"Pah!"

"Did you just say 'Pah'?"

"Did I stutter?"

Oh God, she would not give her the satisfaction of laughing. This was also getting them nowhere though because for every foot they gained back towards the car, Rachel slipped from her grasp enough to drag them two feet back the other way.

She gave up and tried a different tactic. She let go completely but moved to block Rachel's path before she could walk off again.

"Okay, you're freaking out at me trying to force you into my car. I get that. So . . ."

"I'm freaking out because the wolf is showing me her belly and the second I fall for it and reach out, whoosh, throat gone. Although it probably won't sound as nice as whoosh, it'll probably be a horrible ripping sound . . ."

"Berry, I'm not showing you anything or ripping anything, so stop staring at my abs. I just want to take you home. Seriously, stop staring."

"Can I touch them?"

"What?" Quinn chuckled nervously, shying slightly away from her. "No. Don't be ridiculous."

"Please. Just quickly."

"No, Berry!"

"Please?" Rachel was pouting up at her now. "I promise I won't tell."

"Why would you even want to?"

"Because I've heard they're spectacular and I now regret not paying them more attention when I saw you naked."

Quinn anxiously looked over each shoulder; she did not need anyone to overhear this conversation! Luckily Rachel had forced them halfway down the road and even the small group of kids loitering on Puck's porch probably couldn't see them let alone hear them.

"Don't _talk _about that. As far as I'm concerned it never happened. And what do you mean, you _heard_ they're spectacular? Where would you even hear something like that?"

"But it did happen. We wouldn't be here now if it hadn't, would we?" Quinn didn't know how to answer. "I don't just mean here," Rachel pointed at the ground, swaying slightly with concentration. "I mean, _here_." She brought her hands up to cup Quinn's sides and stepped, or stumbled, slightly closer. "Here in this thing. We have a thing, don't we?"

It was okay for _her_, she was drunk, honesty was unavoidable, but Quinn had never felt more sober or less like she wanted to be in her life.

She plucked Rachel's hands from her sides, let go and took a step back. She needed to change the topic and fast. "I asked you a question, Berry. Who've you been talking to about my abs?"

"I didn't have to talk to anyone about them. You're the most popular girl in school, Quinn, people talk about you all the time and your name has always caught my attention."

She couldn't help but smile at that. "But they seriously talk about my stomach?"

Rachel giggled, "Well, granted, they usually talk about what a bitch you are, but I have overheard conversations about your abs and for all intents and purposes they are rumored to be _fantastic_!"

Quinn felt her blush grow stronger with Rachel's enthusiasm. Somehow Rachel noticed it even in the faint glow of the street light down the road.

"What's wrong? You might as well get used to people talking about your stomach, Quinn. They'll be doing it a lot more once you _don't_ have spectacular abs anymore."

It should have had the cold shower effect, but if anything Rachel's words just acted as a warning to grab what she could before it was gone.

She couldn't believe she was even considering this.

"You'll keep your mouth shut and get in the car without any more screwing around?"

Rachel nodded eagerly.

She took the other girl's elbow and pulled her into the deep shadow of an ornamental Maple's spread branches. "And you'll forgive me for punching you on the chin?"

Rachel looked both surprised and dubious about the request but nodded again.

It would be nice to have someone appreciate them one last time before they were gone forever. She was already starting to lose some of the definition she'd worked so hard to achieve thanks to all the gross bloating. How could it hurt to take advantage of the attention on one of her increasingly rare non-fat days?

"Okay, fine." She looked around again to make sure no one was near and then unzipped the back of her Cheerio's top. Fingers catching under the stiff material, she dragged it up to reveal four inches of still mostly toned stomach. Fixing her gaze on a point over Rachel's head, she waved her other hand forward, "Go on then but if you even think about trying to steal second I'll knock you down and stand on your throat."

"Okay."

She expected the other girl to be nervous and hesitant now that her request had been granted but that wasn't the case. Quinn flinched and grit her teeth when a small soft hand reached out, warm palm pressing firmly against her quickly chilling abdomen.

Strangely, she didn't feel as cold as she probably should. Rachel's palm was like a heat lamp moving over her and it warmed her everywhere, not just her stomach.

She gently bit her lip, looking down at the other girl. It was pretty dark just here and Rachel was so close she could only see the crown of her head but she could feel the intense concentration radiating from her as Rachel watched her hand move back and forth across Quinn's stomach.

"I can't feel a baby," Rachel whispered.

"That's because it's about the size of a peanut right now, Berry. Just a little shorter than you."

Rachel took the comment with good nature, tilting her head to grin up at her and Quinn smiled back, because it was undeniable that while drunk Rachel was a pain in the ass, she was also a little bit – a very _tiny _bit – adorable.

Rachel's grin slipped into an unsure smile that made the breath catch in Quinn's chest and then her hand made a long, lazy zigzag up and down, pinkie finger brushing the bunched material of her top, thumb nail grazing the waist band of her skirt. It caused a shiver and an unexpected rush of heat to course through her and Quinn stepped back, startled, slapping Rachel's hand away in a burst of panic.

Rachel's eyes went big and she literally jumped back, like she didn't think the slapping was going to stop there.

"Sorry," Quinn cleared her throat. "That tickled."

"Oh." Rachel nodded, accepting the explanation easily. "Thank you for letting me do that . . ."

She shrugged, extremely uncomfortable and unable to look at her now. Instead she bent her head to rearrange and rezip her top.

". . . SUCKER!" Rachel started to run away.

Quinn winced as the last word was yelled almost into her ear and then reached out and grabbed Berry's wrist before she could get more than two steps.

"Another thing about drunk people, Berry? Slow reaction times."

She let her run until they were at arms length and then with a flick of her wrist she twirled the girl back towards her. Dark eyes went wide to find themselves only inches from Quinn's again.

"Okay, we've tried this the hard way, the easy way, and the really creepy way. Now you've left me no choice but to use the painful and humiliating way."

Keeping a firm grip on her hand, Quinn twisted Rachel's arm until it was pinned behind back. Despite her threat, she tried not to actually hurt her and applied just enough pressure to motivate the shorter girl to walk back to the car ahead of her.

"Let me go!"

"Not happening."

"I'll scream!" Quinn could hear the pout in her voice.

"Be my guest."

"I'll sing again!"

"I'll join you; it can be a duet."

"People are watching!"

"Good."

They weren't though. Whoever had been outside of Puck's house a few minutes before had either gone home or back inside and the lawn and porch were dark and empty of partiers.

Despite seriously having no choice but to do as she was told, Berry was still putting up a fight, alternating between planting her feet firmly on the pavement and leaning back into Quinn's hold to make it difficult to push her along. It would be daylight by the time they made it to the car at this rate.

"You are so annoying!"

"And you're so mean!"

"How am I being mean? I'm just trying to get you home safely."

"It's not your job to take me home. You're not my _date!_"

"You _wish_ I was your date."

Rachel planted her feet again but it seemed to be because something had just occurred to her rather than to be irritating.

"Excuse me? This is far more date-like behavior than me running away."

"What do you mean?"

"You're the one who is insisting on _holding my hand_ while walking me to the car."

Quinn looked down at the way she had Berry's arm twisted, holding her hand halfway up her back, and laughed.

"Good one, Rachel." Without giving an inch she slid her palm up a little and entwined their fingers. Bending to her ear, she whispered, "Let me guess, still better than Mike, right?"

Rachel huffed out several exasperated sighs before quietly admitting, "Maybe."

She laughed again and then gave her a gentle push to get her walking. "Nearly there."

At the car Quinn released her hand and let her slump against the side, but she stayed directly in front of her so that she couldn't pull any more shit.

"Okay, get in."

"Okay, just let me . . ." Rachel pushed herself quickly off of the car and feinted to the left before sharply, at least in her opinion, dodging to the right.

Quinn's feet didn't even move but she shot her left arm out, slapping her palm on the roof of the car, and Rachel bumped into her arm and stumbled back against the rear door.

"You were supposed to not be there!"

"I'm not an idiot."

Quinn's patience was wearing thin now. In the time they'd been messing about she could have dropped Berry off at home and been back at the party. Finn was going to think she'd abandoned him. Santana was probably thinking that she was still at Berry's, doing whatever the worse her imagination could come up with. Plus, the fact that Rachel was refusing to accept her offer was bad for her ego. It shouldn't matter, but it did. Quinn had been secretly thrilled for the chance to take her home without Finn and Mike being there too, and now Rachel was _ruining_ it, just like she ruined everything!

She opened the passenger door and pointed. "In."

"No."

"Look, if you won't accept my ride, I'm going to have to get Matt to take you home. Think about it, who would you rather walk you to your front door tonight, me or Matt?"

Rachel didn't think about it. "Matt."

Quinn closed her eyes, sighing deeply. When she opened them again she knew they'd lost any warmth they might have held a minute ago.

"Fine. I'll go and tell him. Promise me you'll stay here and not wander off until he comes out."

"Why do you care, Quinn?"

Her standard answer was 'I don't' and it was on the tip of her tongue but she couldn't force it out. "I don't know, I just do."

With another resigned sigh, she turned to head back up the walk to Puck's. She'd only gone half a dozen steps when she heard her car door slam and she spun around, expecting to see Berry running up the street again.

She was nowhere in sight. "Dammit!"

But as she began to scan around her eye caught a dark, hunched shape through her passenger window. It made her smile, but she was careful to lose it as she rounded her car and slipped into the driver's seat.

She started the engine. "Put your seatbelt on."

Rachel did as she was told and then, without asking, leaned forward to play with the radio. She skipped through the pre-programmed stations, getting frustrated because all she could find were songs she didn't like or talk radio or commercials.

Quinn flicked her eyes over. "CD's are in the glove compartment."

Rachel eagerly pulled it open and sorted through the six discs inside, scanning the track listings. "You don't have a lot of new music here."

"Says the girl who would have us singing Broadway classics twenty-four seven if the rest of us didn't stop you."

"I have a very broad taste, actually."

She had just been singing Maroon 5. Quinn shrugged, "So do I. You've got three decades of music in your hands."

"But none from the last two decades. I'm not saying you have bad taste in music, Quinn . . ."

"Good. Just put a CD on."

Rachel huffed at being interrupted. ". . . in fact, there are many great songs here." She pushed a CD into the slot. "I'm just curious as to who has influenced your taste because it is clearly not current MTV."

Tina Turner's _The Best _began playing softly through the car speakers.

She shrugged, "My Mom and Dad mostly, I guess. I used to listen to their records all the time when I was younger. I wasn't allowed to buy my own until a couple of years ago. Even now my Dad's censor-y about what I can and can't listen to in my room."

"That's pretty strict for someone who's sixteen."

Quinn chuckled, "I know. God bless the invention of the iPod!"

Rachel giggled.

"So who influenced your taste?"

"My parents a lot, obviously. My Dad is as big a show tunes fan as I am, plus, well, he'd probably really like your collection, especially the sixties stuff. My Daddy likes classic rap and, unfortunately, rave music, which I'm not so fond of myself, but he's generally much more contemporary in his tastes." Quinn could just see her grin in the passing streetlights. "He really likes Lady Gaga at the moment. Between them, I've been subjected to every musical genre known to man since I was born and, of course, I make a point of keeping abreast of all current musical trends."

"Of course," Quinn said dryly, but grinned when Rachel turned to her.

The easy conversation dried up when they stopped at a red light and Quinn began to softly sing along with the CD to avoid an uncomfortable silence. Rachel joined in – naturally – and by the time she was putting her foot down on the gas again they were both belting out the final chorus of _The Best_.

They were laughing as the last notes died away and _What's Love Got To Do With It? _began.

While the intro was still playing, Quinn shifted awkwardly in her seat. There was something she wanted, no needed to ask, but didn't know how. She knew it would be better _not _to ask, but she actually wanted to get some sleep tonight and that wasn't happening if she didn't get an answer.

When they were only four blocks from Rachel's house she knew she just had to blurt it out before she lost her chance.

"So, um, why wouldn't you kiss me earlier when we were playing Spin the Bottle?"

Rachel turned to her, confused, and Quinn prayed she wasn't going to play dumb and say something like 'Excuse me?' or 'What?' and make her repeat the question.

Her prayers were answered.

Rachel looked down at her hands. "For a lot of reasons."

"Care to name one?"

She did better than that. "Okay. You were making fun of me at the time. Everyone was watching. Why should _I_ kiss _you_ when you're so reluctant to kiss me? You'd just punched me. I got stage fright for the first time in my life. We have a no touching rule and I think that probably includes lips too. But at the top of the list . . ." she paused and Quinn found she was holding her breath, anxious to hear the big reason. ". . . You would have used it to ridicule me. Don't deny it. In front of everyone you would have _had _to. You'd have made some horrible comment about my lips or my breath or my terrible kissing technique."

Quinn couldn't deny it. She would have done that. To save face and deflect any likely rumors.

"And that would have ruined it," Rachel added quietly.

There was that skip in her chest again. Quinn didn't trust herself to say anything but she nodded.

Rachel twisted in her seat again to face the way they were going. "All of that, and I didn't know if you'd brushed your teeth or not yet."

Feeling the tension break, Quinn laughed. "I chewed some toothpaste and gargled with mouthwash after you left the bathroom."

"Ah, well, see if I'd know that beforehand."

Quinn reached over and pushed her shoulder and Rachel succumbed to another giggle fit. They were turning into her road by the time she recovered.

"Anyway, don't think it's forgotten. I'm putting it on the list."

Amused, she glanced over, "What list?"

Rachel smirked, "The list! Now you owe me one big favor, or two smaller favors, and one kiss."

Quinn shook her head, "I don't owe you a kiss."

"Yes you do. I spun that bottle fair and square. That kiss is in the bank."

"No way." She pulled the car onto the Berry's driveway and cut the engine. "That kiss had a time limit, and that time limit was for the length of the game. Game's over, you lost your kiss."

"That's not fair," Rachel grumbled as she unclicked her seatbelt.

"Sure it is. Not my fault you were too much of a chicken to take your kiss when it was offered.

"But . . ."

"But nothing, Berry. Rules of the game."

Rachel crossed her arms in frustration and seeing that she was going to sit there like that indefinitely, Quinn slipped out of her door and went around to open the passenger side.

"Come on."

"No."

"If you don't get out this second you're coming back to the party with me."

"I don't care."

"If you come back to the party with me I'm going make you sit outside on the lawn with a tiny fishing pole in your hands."

Rachel looked up at her. "What?"

"You'll fit right in with the other garden gnomes."

Rachel muttered under her breath, "Bitch."

"Yeah, that's me. Now, out!" She reached down to hook a hand under Rachel's elbow and pulled her easily out of the car.

Rachel staggered when the fresh air hit her again and Quinn pushed her against the car to keep her upright.

"Still drunk, I see."

"I'm fine."

"Go like this." Quinn extended her right arm and then brought her hand around to touch her index finger to the tip of her nose.

"Easy!" Rachel poked herself in the eye. "Ow."

Chuckling, Quinn took her elbow again. "Come on, I'll walk you to the door."

"No, like this."

She looked down at Rachel's open and waiting hand. She should refuse, if only because Berry was being so damn demanding about it, but she told herself she just didn't care enough to argue.

"Fine." She took Rachel's hand. "Let's go."

They were halfway to the door when Rachel said, "Just because I'm letting you hold my hand doesn't mean this was a date."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "No, this definitely wasn't a date."

"And just because I'm going to let you kiss me on the doorstep doesn't mean this was a date either."

"I'm not kissing you."

"You want to."

She hesitated, trying to come up with a good comeback. She didn't have one. "I'm not kissing you."

"Fine, but don't think you'll get another chance like this. Once I sober up I won't want to kiss you either."

It was like getting a funny kick in the teeth. It shouldn't have been funny or a kick in the teeth and yet it still managed to be both.

"I'll take my chances."

"_What do you say to taking chances . . . what do you say to jumping off the edge . . ."_

Oh great, she was singing again. At least this time it was soft enough to not wake up the neighbours.

"I say it sounds like a great idea . . . until you hit the ground, then it just hurts."

"Now who's chicken?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Do you have your keys?"

Rachel fumbled in her bag for a moment and then pulled them out. She didn't even aim for the lock, just held them out for Quinn to take. She unlocked the door and then pushed it open; taking the key out of the lock she placed it on the shelf inside.

"You going to be okay now?"

"I want my kiss."

"Never happening."

"Liar."

Quinn pulled her hand out of Berry's tight grip and gestured inside. "Drink some water and go to bed before your dads get home."

"Okay."

She'd only stumbled five steps inside when it was obvious she was about to face-plant on the floor. Quinn moved quick and caught her around the waist.

"Okay, easy."

"You keep breaking the no touching rule, it's very confusing."

"You'll learn to live with it."

"No!" Berry went from mellow-drunk to angry-drunk in the blink of an eye. She twisted, pushing at Quinn's shoulders, trying to force her away. "If we have rules we have rules. Why do you get to make them and break them and I can't? This isn't fair! We're both equally confused, so I should have an equal say!"

"Okay," Quinn released her, but stayed close enough to catch her if she had to. "No touching. I'm sorry."

"Oh, that you have to bend on? Why am I surprised, of course you're going to choose to never touch me again! That's not a compromise."

Confused was definitely the word right now. "Do you want me to touch you or not?"

"What I _want_ is to go to bed."

"That's what I want you to do too, perfect compromise."

"Thank you!"

Rachel staggered three steps before Quinn had to catch her again. The force of Rachel's drunken momentum caught her off guard and they both went down to their knees. She winced as hers met the tiled floor but Rachel didn't even seem to register the impact.

"I think I'm really drunk."

"I think you are too."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. Let's just get you back up . . ." Rachel slumped against her. ". . . or not. Look, Rachel, I'm trying to be sympathetic to your drunkenness but I have to get back to the party at some point."

"Back to Finn."

"Yes."

Rachel's anger turned to melancholy. "You'd rather be with Finn than me?"

She wasn't going to answer _that_ directly. "He's my boyfriend."

Oh shit, Rachel looked like she was about to cry.

"He needs me to give him a ride home."

"I need you to give me a ride home!"

"I just did that."

"Oh." Rachel looked around as if only just realising where she was. "Thank you, Quinn."

"You're welcome. Now I need to go."

"Okay, if you need to." She'd moved on to acceptance. It was like the five stages of grief or something. "Bye."

"I'm not going to leave you right here."

Rachel sniffed and shook her head slightly. "I'll be okay. I'll just crawl up the stairs."

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

What did she mean? She should be trying to get out of there as soon as possible.

"No one likes an unhappy drunk, Rach. I'm not going until I see you smile again."

"Don't wanna smile."

Quinn took her hand, thumb stroking over the back of it. She bent her head to meet Rachel's down-turned eyes. "How about now?"

"You're trying to manipulate me."

"Yep, is it working?"

"No, just leave me _alooone . . ._ so I can stop holding your hand and looking at your face and thinking about . . . about . . . about doing things to your face I don't _want _to think about!"

"You . . ." Quinn's breath hitched and they were so close with the way they'd fallen that Rachel must have felt it on her cheek, her lips quirked ever so slightly despite how upset she was. "You don't want to think about kissing me?"

"I _don't _want to think about kissing you," Rachel enunciated as best as she could in her inebriation. "But that doesn't mean I can _stop _thinking about what it would _be like_ to kiss you."

Quinn felt as drunk as Rachel, high on thrill and temptation as those angry, desperate words clawed the feelings, that she so desperately wanted to keep buried, up to the surface. Everything she didn't want to want was right there. Exactly as close as the girl in her arms. And how _dare_ Rachel say she didn't want to kiss her. That just fueled Quinn's need to prove her a liar.

Rachel pulled her head back, eyes wide, as Quinn tried to close the distance between them. "What the _heck_ are you doing?"

"What do you think? Being confused together."

Despite her cocky tone, it didn't turn out to be her smoothest move ever – she forgot to tilt her head even a little bit in her rush and their noses bumped, kind of hard, and Rachel 'ouched' and giggled, slumping even further over as one of her hands slipped across the polished floor, almost tipping Quinn over too. Despite the urgency of the moment she was still self-conscious enough for that to almost make her bolt out the door and never look back . . . But then Rachel's grin was against her own and the embarrassment was . . . just funny. And then the gravity of what they were doing seemed to catch up with both them at the same time and grins fell away to leave just lips pressing to lips, and if Quinn had thought her heart was beating faster before . . .

She angled her head, just a touch, and pressed a little harder, one hand instinctively curling around the back of Rachel's neck so that she didn't slip anymore. A feeling like shaking a bottle of pop and then watching its fizzy contents explode into the air like a liquid-based firework happened when she felt Rachel move, returning the light pressure and tilting in such a way their mouths slid together as Rachel's lips nudged and tugged with hers in a simple, exquisite kiss . . . Except, she wasn't _watching _the explosion, she _was _the explosion. She was all shook up and Rachel made her fizzy and there was probably a scientific name for the chemical reaction of exploding pop, Quinn might even know it in another time that didn't purely consist of _Rachel_ _Berry and her lips, _but right now the common name for it was 'Wrap your other arm around Berry's back to hold her as close as you possibly can and _never . . . stop . . . kissing_!'

She was serious too, but Rachel had other ideas and her hands – that had at some point settled on Quinn's shoulders – eventually exerted enough pressure to push her away.

"No," she whined softly, trying to pull Rachel back in. "Don't stop."

Rachel tilted her head back well out of reach, panting laboriously with a delirious smile on her face while holding a hand up to keep Quinn's lips at bay. She looked ridiculous and Quinn had never wanted to kiss anyone more.

"What's wrong?"

"You're making me all hot."

Quinn frowned, not used to her kissing partners citing that as a reason to stop. In fact, 'I'm making youall hot' was usually _her _line for calling an end to things. And then Rachel started waving a hand in front of her face to create some air and it clicked that she meant the _temperature _kind of hot.

"Look, let's get your cardigan off. It'll cool you down." She hooked her thumbs into the knitted blue wool and pushed it off of Rachel's shoulders.

Rachel didn't help in the slightest; in fact she made the job harder by falling against Quinn's chest. "Are you trying to get me naked again, Quinn Fabray?"

She blushed hard at the reminder, but laughed as she continued to strip her out of the cardigan, "I think you're safe tonight, Berry."

"Fine, but I _knew_ you wanted to kiss me," Rachel said, with a happy little sigh that turned what could have sounded smug into just intense relief.

"Whatever," Quinn cast the removed cardigan aside. "Have you cooled down yet?"

"Mmmmmmmm!" was hummed against her collarbone; whatever that meant.

Cupping her cheek with one hand and supporting the back of her neck with her other, Quinn eased Rachel back from her chest and dipped to meet that elated smile only to be met with a breathy little snore whistling between barely parted lips.

Quinn jerked her head back with a frown. She _had_ to be kidding!

"Berry, you can't fall asleep on me."

Nothing.

"Rachel, wake up!"

A slight wrinkling of the nose as Quinn lightly tapped her cheek.

"Rach, I'm going to kiss you again either way, do you really want to miss it?"

Rachel's eyes remained closed but Quinn was sure her smile was now even more dreamy and blissful.

Just great, _now_ what was she supposed to do? They were in the Berry's foyer, it was nearly one in the morning, her dads would be home soon and Rachel was _passed out _in her arms! It was like Sleeping Beauty in reverse. The kiss wasn't the cure it was the crime and she'd just wilfully committed it. Now she was paying the price.

What had she just done? And why had she wanted to do it so badly in the first place?

Rachel shifted against her, one arm sneaking under hers to curl against her back as she turned her face into Quinn's neck and mumbled something like, "You make tingles in me all over. Hmm? You feel the thing, Quinn, don't you?"

Oh yeah, that was why, because she did. She didn't want to but she _really _did.

Taking a deep breath, which was pure Rachel (so didn't help in the slightest); she dipped her head to see glazed dark eyes staring unfocusedly at her and shrugged awkwardly.

Apparently it was enough, "Awesome," Rachel breathed and then she really was out, head lolling on Quinn's shoulder as the snores came a little louder and more evenly.

"Yeah, just _awesome_," Quinn echoed sarcastically, rolling of her eyes.


	18. Sands of Time

Hello. Sorry for any confusion last week. I went back in to fix some formatting I wasn't happy with and forgot that it would make it appear as if I had updated. If I ever have to do it again I'll wait until I have a new chapter to post as well to avoid confusion/disappointment.

Big thanks for all those reviews - you guys are awesome. And to those just reading too - my hit counter is going through the roof :)

**Chapter Seventeen:**

**My Body's Lying Somewhere In The Sands Of Time.**

Quinn's head repeatedly lifted off and then slammed back into her white down pillow to a chant of, "Why? Why? Why?"

She was such an idiot!

Why hadn't she just left Berry at the front door? What did she care if the girl stumbled and hit her head on the floor? It wasn't her fault Berry couldn't handle her alcohol and had gotten so drunk; in fact, Quinn had spent a good portion of her evening trying to keep her sober!

See, this is what came from playing nice with Berry! She'd given the girl a chance and . . . and Rachel had _abused_ it! She'd taken advantage of her kindness and . . .

_If you can really make yourself believe that for one second, I'll eat my sandals._

As the voice of her conscience spoke up, Quinn stopped banging her head on her pillow and cut her savior a steely glance.

"This is all your fault!"

_Excuse me? Am I the one who gave in to temptation?_

"No, but you said it was okay and look where it's gotten me!"

_I said it was okay to hold her hand, don't try and pin the rest on me._

"This is why you're so big on abstinence, isn't it? Holding hands is a gateway drug to the harder stuff."

_Are you sure you're not over-reacting?_

"Am I? Maybe I am. It was only a little kiss, barely even that. It was a peck, it was pretty much nothing. Right?"

_Did it really feel like nothing at the time?_

"I was caught up in the moment, and probably drunk off of her breath, and it was just a thank you anyway. She's been . . . helpful recently, I just wanted to thank her."

'_Say it with flowers' is a slogan for a reason, you know?_

"Oh Jesus!" She pulled the pillow over her head. "Maybe she won't remember? Maybe I'll get lucky and she was so drunk she's blacked the whole thing out. We can just carry on like normal and pretend it never happened and that way we'll never ever have to talk about it."

_Maybe . . . of course, that's kind of unlikely considering . . ._

"I know, okay!" Quinn growled into her pillow. "Why? Why? Why? I'm such an idiot!"

* * *

><p>Halfway across town Rachel woke up and really wished she hadn't. Her mouth felt like a family of mice had moved in over night and died, probably from her breath. Her head was full of woodpeckers – big, strong, possibly mutant woodpeckers. And her stomach, oh dear, her stomach was spinning slowly, going around and around and around like a sushi turntable . . .<p>

Oh Barbra, don't think about raw fish!

What had happened to her last night?

She remembered going to Puck's party. She remembered drinking her first beer and thinking it was gross but also wonderful. She remembered trying other types of alcohol - some worse, some better - all in that same way wonderful. She hadn't had enough to get drunk though, had she? She couldn't have because she distinctly – well not that distinctly right now – remembered that someone had kept taking her drinks away. Who? Her date? No, she could remember Mike fetching her plenty of drinks at her request, but she couldn't remember him confiscating any of them, so why was she convinced . . .

Quinn! It had been Quinn. Definitely not her date then.

Quinn had been mean all night! Stealing her drinks, kicking her out of chairs and making horrible comments. Rachel knew she should have expected it, Quinn had even told her to expect it, but it hurt now in the harsh light of day. When she was already feeling so physically fragile, it wasn't a big leap to get to emotionally fragile too and she turned on her side, snivelling quietly into her pillow as she tried to piece together what else she could remember.

She had an extremely clear memory of Santana charging at her, intent to do harm in her eyes, but she couldn't remember the reason for it, or how the confrontation had been concluded. She remembered holding Mike's hand and thinking it was nice, but not as nice as some other hands she'd held recently. She could remember . . . Oh, fudge! Had she kissed Kurt? Why? How? What would have possessed her to do such a thing?

No, hopefully that was just the remnants of some crazy drink-fuelled nightmare and hadn't really happened.

What she really couldn't remember was how she'd ended up here, in her own bed. She couldn't recall leaving Puck's, or arriving home, or climbing the stairs to her room, or . . . she wiggled her toes and then took a quick look under her comforter . . . taking off her shoes and cardigan.

She let the bed-cover fall around her shoulders again, deciding she was obviously just a very efficient drunk. She smiled a little, burying her head back into her pillow. If she just lay there, not moving, she didn't feel too bad. Or at least, she felt okay enough to just lay there and not move – so everyone was happy.

She wanted to go back to sleep. It was Saturday – no school, no plans, no vocal coach until that evening, homework could wait until tomorrow, her dads would probably be over the moon that she was sleeping in like a normal teenager for once. And with any luck, when she woke up again this first awakening would feel like nothing but a horrible dream, much like last night did at the moment.

Her mind drifted, on the cusp of sleep but not quite falling over the edge. She was cozy enough, her body as relaxed as it could be when she felt like she was dying, and she was certainly tired, but her mind was betraying her, assailing her with half-formed thoughts centred on a certain hot cheerleader.

_Hot _cheerleader?

Sure Quinn was hot, but Rachel had never referred to her like that before, not even in her head as far as she could remember, so why couldn't she get that particular descriptor _out_ of her head all of a sudden? She squirmed on the bed a little, annoyed at her relentless and obviously perverted brain. And _other _parts of her! Why couldn't she stop thinking about Quinn's abs? More importantly, why couldn't she stop thinking about _touching _them? Why was she torturing herself like this? She was never going to get within a foot of Quinn Fabray's abs, they had a no touching rule for goodness sake, she wasn't even allowed to touch her hand unless permission had been expressed first. Thoughts of this nature were completely counter-productive. In fact, her mind was being just plain cruel!

Huffing at herself, she rolled over onto her front, arms coming up to hug her pillow and something sharp sliced into her thumb.

"Ow!"

She pulled her hand out, inspecting the tiny paper cut across her thumb knuckle. Confused, she sucked at the thin line of blood and scrambled her other hand around under the pillow to find whatever had attacked her.

She pulled out a sheet of her blank music paper. It was folded into four and when she opened it she recognized the handwriting immediately.

"Huh."

* * *

><p>"<em>You have to wake up, Rachel. You can't sleep down here." Quinn tried shaking her shoulder. "What are your dads going to think when they get home to find you passed out in the foyer?"<em>

_Her only reply was a sweet little mumbled giggle._

_No, it wasn't sweet, it was freaking annoying! She couldn't leave her here but why had she ever let this become her problem? _

_Oh yeah, Quinn smiled, biting her lip gently. They were still tingling from the feel of Rachel's. She shouldn't have done that, it had been a mistake. She'd thought, maybe, by just _doing _it she could prove it was no big deal, that it would feel like nothing, like the time she'd kissed Brittany in a game of truth or dare, and then this big thing she'd talked it up to be in her head would just be gone, like it never existed. She'd be . . . cured or whatever._

_That was not the case._

_It had felt like . . . soaring off of the top of the pyramid.. _

_Scary, but the really good kind of scary. _

_Like a roller coaster or the first time she'd been behind the wheel of a car on the open road. Not that those two things were synonymous; she was a good driver. Okay, so she occasionally put her foot down but still . . ._

_She was sitting in the Berry's foyer at nearly one in the morning, a passed out Rachel leaning against her; was this really a good time to mentally critique her own driving skills? _

_Rachel had said her parents would be home between one and two, so she either had to leave Rachel here to fend for herself, or she had to act now._

"_I hope you realize I'm not supposed to lift things in my condition."_

_Sliding her arms under Rachel's knees and shoulders, Quinn moved into a crouching position and then lifted with her knees. It was easier than she expected._

"_So it's just as well you actually weigh about as much as a gnome too."_

_She made it up the stairs – stopping for a breather only once at the small square landing between floors – and carried Rachel to her room; thankful that they'd left the door open earlier. After carrying her all that way, Quinn felt like throwing her onto the bed, but she did her best to be gentle, even managing to push the covers back with her elbow before setting the shorter girl down on the mattress._

"_Okay, you good?"_

_Rachel mumbled something and stretched out on her back._

"_You should sleep on your side."_

_Nothing._

_Sighing, Quinn stopped trying to bolt from the room as fast as possible and went back to the bed. _

"_You're a terrible date, you know that," she chuckled._

_Rachel murmured, "Not a date."_

"_Not a date? Hmm, let me see . . . I picked you up, looked after you all night, spent every second thinking about you, held your hand, gave you a ride home, kissed you on the doorstep . . . okay, just inside the door, but still . . . I think I was more of a date than either of our _actual_ dates have been tonight."_

"_No' a da' . . . wan' dinn' n' m'vie."_

"_I just had to carry you up the stairs and put you to bed; you're not exactly in a position to be dictating the details of any dates. If a boy got this drunk on our first date he wouldn't even last until the end of it, let alone get to choose the second."_

"_W'sn a date!" Rachel mumbled resolutely._

"_I know! I mean, I know," she repeated, trying to sound calmer than Rachel made her feel. "I'm just teasing."_

"_Shouldn't tease me," Rachel slurred and hiccupped her way through her reply but Quinn understood enough of it. "I might not let you take me on a second date."_

_Her pulse picked up at the very idea of a second date. Not that they could have a second date when they hadn't even had a first. And the whole idea was ridiculous anyway; she couldn't _date _Rachel Berry!_

"_I thought this wasn't a date?"_

"_This was my first ever date; Mike I mean, not you, did you know that?"_

"_You might have mentioned it." Rachel started giggling. "What?"_

"_You!" Rachel tried to lift her hand to either point or poke but found it too much effort and let it drop back to the mattress instead. "You ruined it and made it perfect. How do you do that, Quinn? How do you ruin _every day_ and make them perfect too?_" _She rolled onto her back and threw a heavy arm over her eyes. "You make me dizzy with things I don't understand." _

"_Yeah," Quinn breathed out, "I get that."_

_She stopped trying to have a conversation with the drunken girl then because she clearly couldn't be trusted to keep herself in check tonight. Like she hadn't already proved that! Instead, she moved to the end of the bed to take off Berry's shoes._

"_That's as far as I'm undressing you, for obvious reasons."_

_Rachel gave another sleepy chuckle and a mumble of "Chicken," as her feet dug at the mattress, trying to slide under the covers._

_Sighing, with more affection than frustration, Quinn encouraged her onto her side, putting her in a loose form of the recovery position – just in case – and then covered her with the light pink comforter, tucking it around her shoulders._

_She was about to make another bid for freedom when she envisaged the girl's hangover. It wasn't going to be pretty in the morning. Going into the adjoining bathroom, she rinsed out the glass Rachel had brought in to her earlier when she'd been sick and poured fresh water into it. The medicine cabinet held aspirin – not to mention a wealth of throat soothing tonics and muscle rub – and she popped two from the bottle. Carrying it all through to the bedroom, she placed it on Berry's bedside cabinet._

_Rachel was dead to the world now, snoring softly. Quinn watched her for a few minutes to make sure she was okay. And then a few more minutes because there was no one here to catch her looking at Rachel with anything less than loathing for once. Although how anyone could loathe this girl with her party-tangled hair all over the place, arms curled around the corner of her comforter like a teddy bear and a happy-drunk smile still curving her lips as gentle snores breezed between them was a mystery._

_Then again, she wasn't always asleep._

_It took realizing she'd been watching Berry sleep for nearly ten minutes like a total creeper that finally snapped her out of it._

"_You're killing me here, Berry!" she grumbled; but she wasn't able to feel half as annoyed about it as she wanted to. It was kind of hard to hate something that gave her this compelling sense of urgency and stirred a kind of energy within her that she'd never felt before._

_The alarm clock said it was 12:55 AM and a quick look out of the window showed the driveway and street were still empty of cars and headlights. She had a little longer. Sitting down at the desk she pulled a blank sheet of music paper out of a tray and turned it over as she picked up one of Rachel's many bedazzled pens._

_She planned to write a short note, reminding Berry that she had better keep her mouth shut about their kiss._

_She was still writing ten minutes later._

* * *

><p>Why had she left a note? Quinn's head was back out from under her pillow but she had her hands over her face. It wasn't even a note, it was a letter. She'd written less to her Romanian pen pal when she'd been in middle school! And the letters she'd written to Chalakia had been nothing like the one last night.<p>

She couldn't believe she'd been stupid enough to write Berry a love letter! Where had her brain been? The kiss hadn't been that good!

_Yes it was._

"Shut up!"

Maybe she could get over to the Berry's right now, sneak up to Rachel's room and steal the note back before the girl even woke up.

_And what do you say if she wakes up while you're there?_

"Nothing. I just punch her in the head repeatedly until she passes out again."

_Do I even know you?_

"Shut up."

_You used to be so sweet._

"I used to be a loser."

_So you and Rachel are kindred spirits._

"Shut. Up."

* * *

><p>Rachel squinted at the piece of paper, all thoughts of sickness gone. Her name wasn't at the top and it wasn't signed, but she knew who it was from. Seeing as Quinn hadn't had the time or opportunity to leave anything under her pillow before they'd left for the party, at least this cleared up who had brought her home.<p>

And who had partially undressed her.

Okay, so her shoes and cardigan being removed really weren't grounds for blushing.

'_Quinn's abs!'_

Why couldn't she get that thought out of her head?

She read the first paragraph.

_I hope you don't feel too bad this morning, although considering you just made me carry you up all those stairs, you kind of deserve a killer hangover!_

Quinn had carried her upstairs? Rachel felt her stomach flip pleasantly but at the same time felt incredibly guilty. Quinn shouldn't be carrying anything in her condition! What if she'd hurt herself? What if she'd fallen? What if she'd fallen and hurt _her? _

But Quinn had carried her upstairs! Rachel smiled and read on.

_If you haven't found it yet I placed a glass of water and some aspirin beside your bed. I've never been half as drunk as you are right now, so I can't vouch, but it's supposed to help so take the pills and drink the water like a good little gnome._

Rachel turned over in bed to see the water and aspirin in front of her. She felt like she should be insulted at being called a gnome but for some reason the new nickname just made roll her eyes with a smile.

Suddenly realizing how thirsty she was, she gulped the water down in one long series of swallows, completely forgetting the pills until she was done. It didn't matter; she'd get another glass to take them with a minute. She wanted to keep reading for now.

_Thanks for your help in the bathroom tonight. I know it ended . . . shall we say . . . awkwardly . . ._

Rachel closed her eyes, racking her brain. Bathroom? What had happened in the bathroom? Oh! Morning sickness! Morning sickness was awesome! It was coming back to her slowly. Wait, how had it ended awkwardly?

_. . . but I appreciated you being there. I appreciate everything you've done recently . . ._

She felt a flood of warm happiness flow through her. Quinn had been hot and cold for weeks, mostly cold, but somehow this made it all better. Quinn_ appreciated _her. It made it all worth it.

_. . . and I really shouldn't say this, but throwing up aside that forty-five minutes in the bathroom was probably the highlight of the party for me._

Oh, Barbra, what did that mean? Why couldn't she remember everything that had happened in the bathroom? She normally had such a good memory. She could almost remember winning her first singing competition at eight months old, but she couldn't remember what had happened in the bathroom last night!

_So I'm sorry for screwing it up. I hope your chin hasn't bruised._

Just like that it all came back. Quinn had punched her! Quinn had punched her because Rachel had tried to kiss her!

Oh no!

The genial tone of the note was forgotten. All she could focus on right now was the mortification she felt from trying to kiss Quinn Fabray in Noah Puckerman's bathroom. What had she been thinking? No wonder Quinn had been mean to her all night; she'd crossed a line – a big line!

She read the last line again.

_I hope your chin hasn't bruised._

More like, hope there's a massive bruise on your chin so everyone at school on Monday can see what you tried to do!

She leapt from her bed to race to the mirror . . . and, oh there was that hangover. She doubled over as soon as she reached the bathroom and spent ten minutes hugging the toilet, mildly concerned that she had somehow contracted Quinn's pregnancy and was now experiencing her morning sickness.

Once finished she looked in the mirror above the sink. There was the faintest of small purple-brown smudges on the left side of her chin. It could have been caused by Quinn's fist, but she'd had bigger bruises from missing her step on her elliptical machine.

After drinking a gallon of water straight from the faucet she half crawled, half staggered back to bed, picking up the letter once more once she was snuggled down.

_And this probably goes without saying, but you can't mention last night to anyone. At all. Don't even tell your diary. In fact, as soon as you've finished reading this letter you have to rip it into little pieces and eat it. I'm serious, Berry!_

That seemed odd. Why would Quinn want to keep the secret that she'd punched her? Surely it was in her best interests for everyone to know how she'd reacted to Rachel's advances. Plus, much to her chagrin, Rachel knew punching her in the face only added popularity points to a person's status.

Unless she was referring to the pregnancy. Again she felt a flash of hurt that Quinn couldn't trust her with her secret without constantly feeling the need to issue a string of threats. It wasn't like there was anything in it for her anyway even if she did tell everyone. If she ever opened her mouth about it, Quinn would tell everyone about her crush and then she'd be even more of a loser than usual. They wouldn't even be wrong this time, only a loser would be pathetic enough to start crushing on their straight, popular nemesis.

She went back to the paper.

_See you Monday. X_

Was she signing her name with an X? Because that would be weird. Or was it a big kiss? Because that was even weirder.

_Ps. You were right. I would have made fun of you if you'd kissed me when we were playing Spin the Bottle._

They'd played Spin the Bottle? Oh, yes! That's why she'd kissed Kurt! And why she . . . why she . . . she hadn't kissed Quinn? That seemed like a wasted opportunity.

_I'd have had to, like you said, but you seriously wouldn't have made it easy for me Berry!_

What? She read the paragraph again as a whole. What?

_I'm glad we waited._

WHAT?

What did that mean? What did they wait for? A kiss? No, no, no, that could not be what she meant. What else could it be? Rachel thought as hard as she could but her brain was already impaired with the hangover and now reading this letter had just turned it completely to mush. Why would Quinn be waiting to kiss her? Did that mean she was planning to kiss her at some point? The idea was implausible but Rachel read and re-read the sentence over and over and what the heck else could it mean?

She searched for her cell phone on her bedside cabinet but it wasn't there, so she half fell of the bed to search her floor. She found it in her bag by the door and quickly scrolled through to find Quinn's number. She just couldn't leave a mystery like this unsolved. Quinn would probably tell her it had nothing to do with what she was thinking, but she had to know for sure.

It took a minute of scrolling through her contacts list – which really wasn't that long – first one way and then the other to realize she didn't even have Quinn's number.

Sighing in frustration, she sat back against the side of the bed and reached up to grab the letter again. She might as well read the rest of it.

_Pps. You don't really have to eat this. Just burn it. x_

The cross at the end of that sentence was unmistakeably a kiss. Rachel felt light-headed and hot inside and not because of her hangover.

She sat there for several minutes, knowing she had no intention of burning this letter, but having no clue what to do with its information either. She needed to speak to Quinn as soon as possible because obviously only she could fill in the missing blanks, but she didn't have her number and she didn't know exactly where she lived either.

She had to get hold of her somehow though.

* * *

><p>Quinn was still buried beneath her pillow, beating her hands on the top of it for good measure, when there was a knock at her door.<p>

She pulled her head out before shouting, "Yes?"

"We're leaving in an hour, Quinnie. Come and have some breakfast."

Shit, in all her internal drama she'd forgotten about their trip to Cleveland to visit her sister.

"I'll be down in ten minutes," she called to her Mom, and then pulled the pillow back over her face.

"Why? Why? Why?"

It was the last thing she wanted to do but she should probably speak to Berry. Damage control. Make her realize that the letter had been an anomaly and not something she should grow used to.

She picked her phone off of the table beside her bed and called up the contacts list. She pressed B.

_Breadstix_

_Brittany_

She pressed R.

Nothing.

She pressed M. Maybe she'd saved it under Manhands.

_Matt_

_Mike_

_Mom_

Stubbles?

_Santana_

Pain in the ass?

_Puck_

Well that was fitting, but not helpful.

She didn't have Rachel's number. She'd sort of known that but somehow had expected it to turn up on her phone anyway. Kind of like how Rachel had just turned up important after years of thinking she couldn't be less so.

She dragged herself from the bed and switched her computer on before going to take a quick shower.

* * *

><p>Rachel stared at her computer. It was her only way of communicating with Quinn but was it feasible? She couldn't exactly leave her a message on her Facebook page after all and what were the chances of catching her online this early on a Saturday?<p>

She decided to go and take a shower before she made any decisions, but her hand still reached out to jiggle her mouse as she walked past.

The screen flashed into life behind her.

* * *

><p>Wrapped in a towel, hair still dripping down her back, Quinn called up Rachel's MySpace page.<p>

There wasn't a video from yesterday. Hardly a surprise since they'd been on a date . . . No, since they'd both been on dates, separate dates! Very separate dates that had just happened to coincide.

She clicked 'Prev' and the video from Thursday loaded slowly. She watched as Rachel sang the Craig David song again – enjoying it even more this time – and then clicked to leave a comment.

**Streisandsnose: **Hi. Are you there? Just checking to make sure you didn't die in the night or something. Not that I'd care, obviously, but if it turns out I was the last person to see you alive we both know I'm going down for your murder ;)

She waited a few minutes but there was no reply. It was nine on a Saturday morning, why did she think Berry would be waiting at the computer for her?

**Streisandsnose: **Ok, obviously I'd care, a little, and I guess it's also obvious I don't know what to say to you right now. We should though. Don't you think? Talk, I mean, before Monday. Just so things aren't completely awkward. Or even more completely awkward than they have been recently. Not that talking isn't going to be completely awkward on its own.

She forced herself to stop rambling and send the comment, only to have an after-thought hit her.

**Streisandsnose: **Unless, you don't want to talk. If you don't that's fine. It might be best if we don't, like, ever. I mean it's not like it's a big deal, I'm already over it, but I just wanted to make sure you felt the same. About it not being a big deal. Or if you think it's something we need to talk about. Do you?

She sat back and narrowed her eyes at her column of comments. She really should have left it at 'I don't know what to say'. This was a bad idea. She should be coming up with ways to torture or bribe Rachel into silence, not trying to connect with her!

**Streisandsnose: **Answer me, Manhands!

Oh, because that would help. She'd spent, what, three minutes making nice before resorting to bitchery! Rachel was probably still asleep, completely unaware of her internal freak out.

"Quinnie," her Mom called through the door. "We're leaving in thirty minutes."

She sighed in frustration. "I'll be ready!"

'_Where are you, Berry?'_

* * *

><p>Rachel dried herself meticulously and then dressed in sweat pants and a loose t-shirt. She still wasn't feeling great and comfort clothes were a must.<p>

She slid into her computer chair, and in a bid not to hound Quinn on Facebook checked her MySpace page instead. She hadn't uploaded a video yesterday, but she could check to see if there were any comments from the day before.

Her eyes went wide as she read them; noting that they were all extremely recent too.

She replied to the last of them.

**RachelBarbraBerry: **Don't call me Manhands. You know my hands are extremely feminine.

**Streisandsnose: **Delete that and meet me on Facebook.

Rachel responded to both requests.

**Rachel: **Hi.

**Quinn: **How are you feeling?

**Rachel: **Like I was sucked up by a combine harvester and spat out the other end.

**Quinn: **Did you take the aspirin?

**Rachel: **Yes, after I got your letter.

**Quinn: **I wasn't really thinking straight when I wrote that. Don't read too much into it.

**Rachel: **I have no idea what to read into it. Most of last night is a blank.

**Quinn: **Good! :)

**Rachel: **Not in my opinion.

**Quinn: **What do you remember?

Rachel chuckled nervously but told the truth.

**Rachel: **Something about your abs, maybe?

**Quinn: **Oh, God, I'd hoped you'd forget that part!

**Rachel: **I have! Why are your abs on my brain?

**Quinn: **No reason.

**Rachel: **Tell me!

**Quinn: **You might have touched them maybe.

Rachel's brain went blank . . . aside from a sudden onslaught of memories of Quinn's smooth, toned stomach under her hand.

**Rachel: **Oh

**Quinn: **Oh, you remember, or oh, wtf am I talking about?

**Rachel: **The first one.

**Quinn: **Do you need to lie down :)

**Rachel: **Lol. Maybe.

**Quinn: **Do you remember anything else?

**Rachel: **It's in pieces. What did you mean by 'Glad we waited?'

**Quinn: **Stupid letter!

**Rachel: **Are you laughing or crying right now?

**Quinn: **Both. Look if you can't remember, that's a good thing.

**Rachel: **How can it be?

**Quinn: **It just

**Quinn: **brb

**Rachel: **No! Come back!

Quinn didn't reply and Rachel sat there, fiddling with her mouse mat and her clothes and the papers on her desk.

Where was she? Why had she left so abruptly? Was the answer to that question so horrible that she couldn't even bear to type it?

**Quinn: **Sorry, I have to go. Family thing. See you Monday.

**Rachel: **Quinn, PLEASE, tell me first.

A full minute passed and Rachel was sure Quinn had gone and she wasn't going to get an answer.

**Quinn: **You kissed me when I was helping you into your house. Don't worry; I'm not going to make a big deal out of it. But it can't happen again obviously and don't tell anyone.

Rachel's fingers felt numb as they tapped on the keyboard.

**Rachel: **I kissed you? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to.

**Quinn: **Like I said, Berry, it's okay. You were drunk, it happened, I'm over it. As long as we don't let it happen again it's fine.

**Rachel: **Okay. Sorry though.

**Quinn: **Yeah. Bye.

**Rachel: **Goodbye, Quinn.

Rachel sat back in her desk chair, feeling completely embarrassed. She'd kissed Quinn after all! She was lucky to only wake up with a tiny little bruise in her chin.

She just wished she could remember it.

* * *

><p>Quinn dressed quickly; she only had about seven minutes now to be ready.<p>

Her lie was for the best, she didn't doubt that. Rachel not knowing the truth was a good thing, but that didn't make her feel better about _needing_ to lie. She'd had to do it though and at least she'd been gentle. She could have made the girl feel like crap, threatened her with bodily harm and public humiliation, and left her in no doubt that the kiss had been entirely one-sided and that she, Quinn, was totally disgusted by it, but she'd resisted. She'd let her down easy. So really her lie wasn't all that bad.

Plus, she'd gotten the urge to kiss Berry totally out of her system now . . .

_No, you haven't._

. . . so things could go back to normal. She could forget all about this strange little interlude she'd been living for the past couple of weeks, put it behind her and move

on. It wasn't like she didn't have bigger things to deal with after all. Berry had been a blip, for sure, but Quinn had had no interest in the other girl _before_ their shower encounter and it was going to be good to get back to that.

_You talk a good game._

"I'm not like that," she murmured as she hastily applied her make-up. "If Berry is, good for her, but I'm not. I'm in love with Finn – a boy, okay? So I know I'm not . . . _you know_ or whatever."

She paused, eyeliner pencil held near her eye, waiting for Jesus to argue with her.

She felt slightly disappointed when He didn't.

* * *

><p>Rachel rummaged through the bottom drawer of her dresser for last year's Thunderclap. She didn't look at it very often, even though she was in a lot of the club photos, because it was depressing.<p>

She'd carried it around all of the last week of freshman year, holding it proudly against her chest, in full sight, waiting for someone to ask to sign it . . . and no one had. No one had offered theirs to Rachel either so on the last days of the year, when everyone else was gushing about all of the 'Gonna miss you so much! Have a great summer! XOXO!' messages they'd received, Rachel had hidden hers away in her bag and avoided all eye contact. An extremely easy task to accomplish considering no one had wanted to make eye contact with her anyway.

She'd like to say things were different now and that when the new yearbooks came out she'd be fighting off people trying to write in hers, but while she had tried her best to make friends with everyone in Glee she knew her efforts hadn't yet paid off.

With the exception of Finn and Mike and perhaps – and she still couldn't believe this even with the letter open right by her knee – Quinn.

The last person she would ever have expected to be able to call a friend despite all of her wishful thinking, and okay, she knew it was still too soon to presume anything like that and . . . and she knew 'friend' wasn't really what she thought when she thought about Quinn right now, but as the thing she did think wasn't ever going to happen . . . maybe they _could_ be friends.

It was Quinn she was thinking of now as she flicked quickly through the copy of the _2008-2009_ Thunderclap.

She found what she was looking for in the center. She'd looked at these photos before, but only in a slightly envious and angry way. Now she studied the seven page Cheerios spread like it was the official companion booklet to Wicked!

Quinn hadn't been head cheerleader yet when these pictures were taken – a senior named Wendy had been – but the blonde had still been pretty and popular enough to get half a page to herself. The top half. Santana had the bottom half but Rachel tried not to look at _her _picture while she gazed at Quinn's.

She really _was_ perfect . . . to look at, at least. Rachel knew, even with her crush, that Quinn had plenty of imperfections in the personality department, but to just _look _at . . .

She smiled as she traced a fingertip down photo-Quinn's cheek and then her arm, wishing she could do it for real. Then she pressed her fingertip lightly to Quinn's stomach, flushing red as she remembered running her hand over that smooth skin, feeling the muscles twitch beneath her palm. She still couldn't remember what had led to Quinn allowing her such intimate contact, but it was irrelevant. She had; what else did Rachel need to know?

When Quinn had told her about that, the memory had come flooding back instantly, but Quinn had also said that Rachel had kissed her, and try as she might that memory just wasn't coming back! It was probably a good thing, because she was mortified enough with just the outsider knowledge, but if she was going to be mortified anyway, what could it hurt to remember how it felt?

She wanted that memory back more than anything, even if it included Quinn pushing her away and telling her off – and, really, she couldn't imagine it ending any way _but_ like that.

Glancing at her door to make sure it was still closed and then at her computer screen to make sure Quinn's disembodied head wasn't somehow watching her through it, Rachel gave into temptation and held the book up level with face. She was surprised she could keep it so still with the way her hands were shaking, but she did and slowly leaned in until her lips were pressed against photo-Quinn's wide smile.

She was absolutely sure it felt nothing like the real thing but it still made her feel hot and tingly and she dropped the book back to the floor with a shy chuckle. She couldn't believe she'd just kissed a photo of Quinn! There was no denying her crush now, was there?

Not looking at the photo again she folded the letter, pressed it to the page and closed the book. She stroked the cover lovingly once and then shoved it back where it had been, making sure it was covered beneath a couple of family photo albums before closing the drawer.

She had a feeling it wouldn't be the last time this weekend she saw that book.

* * *

><p>Cleveland hadn't been too unbearable so far. She spent the drive there reading ahead in the assigned book for American Lit. It was a good idea because sitting next to Berry was already distracting enough and she could only imagine that would be even worse come this Tuesday morning.<p>

Almost as soon as they'd arrived, Quinn's Mom and Dad had left Frannie's small suburban home to go into the city. Their Dad apologized for interrupting family day to meet with clients, but . . . whatever. Quinn wasn't much into family days right now anyway, what with all the secrets she was keeping from them.

She'd been left at the house and it was a little awkward, because this was her sister, who'd she'd grown up with, but other than the occasional phone call and holiday meals they'd barely seen each other in the two years since Frannie had been married.

"You look peaky."

"Yeah, well you look fat!" Quinn snapped back.

They were having brunch on the back porch and Frannie looked up from scraping a modicum of butter onto her scone.

"I'm pregnant," she said with a smile. "I'm supposed to get fat."

'_Yeah, well so am I! And I'm supposed to get morning sick.'_

Despite the age difference there had always been plenty of sibling rivalry growing up – Frannie had always been perfect in their parent's eyes and Quinn had always been . . . not. It wasn't that she thought they loved her any less – or if they did they hid it well – but why did _Frannie _have to get the perfect damn nose and the sunshine blonde hair naturally? For the entire time they'd both been teenagers, albeit at different ends of the spectrum, Quinn had strived to be better than her sister and her sister had, metaphorically, placed her hand on Quinn's forehead to mockingly keep her wild swings at bay.

But since she'd married, Frannie seemed to have mellowed a whole lot.

That didn't mean Quinn trusted her with her secret. It was one thing to be pregnant at twenty-two when you were married to a man your Daddy adored; a completely different thing to be pregnant at sixteen by a Jew who wasn't even your boyfriend.

"Sorry," she muttered, going back to her own scone.

"Having problems, kid?"

Frannie hadn't taken naturally to the transition from Lucy to Quinn like their mom and dad had. Quinn knew her sister thought she was kind of stupid for wanting to change herself so entirely, but then that was easy to say when you were practically _born_ pretty and popular. It had caused more than a few arguments when Frannie was still living at home – 'kid' was the compromise they'd come to, even if Quinn liked it only marginally more than Lucy.

"No."

"Boy trouble?" Frannie asked with a knowing smile.

'_If only you knew_', she thought before shaking her head. "I'm still dating Finn."

"Oh, I met him over the summer, right? Nice boy, a little slow?"

"He is _not _slow."

"He ate a plateful of shrimp without taking the shells off."

"He didn't know you were supposed to," Quinn defended him.

Frannie shrugged, letting it go. "So you two are still going strong?"

"Yes."

Frannie watched her for a moment before taking a bite of her scone. Quinn didn't like the scrutiny and tried to toughen her face to withstand it. She had a feeling she'd failed.

"Do yourself a favor, kid. Don't get tied down to early. You have too much potential for that."

Quinn gulped before she could stop herself, wondering what her sister had guessed. "You got married at twenty-one."

"To a guy I met in college, not high school. And as much as I love the idiot, it hasn't all been smooth sailing even at our age." She looked down at her distended stomach. "And I know for a fact this baby is going to cause some choppy water."

"Are you not happy about being pregnant?" Quinn asked, voice wavery, because maybe if her sister admitted that then she would find the strength to admit her own fears.

Frannie smiled, "Of course we are. It wasn't expected, my life plan didn't include children for at least five more years, but obviously God had a different plan and I respect his judgment."

Life plans made her think of Rachel Berry and she had to shake her head to clear the thought.

"So you don't think I should stay with Finn? You think I should play the field?" She'd already done that with disastrous results.

"I think if Finn's the one, you'll know it, but you're sixteen and you've been on edge all morning. If it's not working for you, look for something that does."

"You think I'm on edge because of Finn?"

Frannie shrugged, "How are your grades then?"

"I'm third in my class." Six above Berry but why that was important to think about she didn't know. How did she even know that anyway?

"And the 'rents are treating you okay?"

"Stifling but loving as ever."

"Your social life everything you dreamed it would be?"

"I'm head cheerleader, what do you think?"

Her sister smiled. "Then that just leaves your love life. I had a dozen boyfriends in the time you've been dating Finn."

"Yeah but I'm not a slut." She regretted the words as soon as she'd said them but Frannie just laughed again.

"Neither was I. President of the Celibacy Club, remember? Just like you. But you can kiss as many boys as you want and still stay a virgin."

Quinn ducked her head, feeling ashamed, her secret feeling like a hot, nasty, twisty thing in her stomach. A few seconds later the next bout of nausea hit her. She thought of the handkerchief in her pocket, the one that didn't smell like she needed it too any longer and found herself blurting,

"I might like someone else."

"Oh, who?" Frannie leant forward in excitement. Life in suburbia must be really boring. "What's his name?"

"Uh." Quinn's brain shut down, stopping the name from finding its way from her mind to her mouth. "Uh, Puck, it's Puck. I mean Noah."

"Noah?" Frannie's cute, all-natural nose wrinkled, "That doesn't sound promising."

Quinn sighed, it sounded a lot more promising than _Rachel. _

* * *

><p><em>Pro: I think she likes me. As a friend at least, and that's a start.<em>

_Con: But she's made it quite clear she'd prefer it if I didn't like her as anything at all._

Rachel sucked on the end of her pen as she stared down at her list.

_Pro: She admitted she likes holding my hand._

_Con: She didn't admit it, she just didn't deny it._

Rachel frowned; was that the same thing? Not denying something was almost like an admission of liking it.

_Pro: She let me touch her abs!_

_Con: I have no proof I had her permission to do that._

_Pro: I kissed her!_

_Con: She made it clear it wasn't appreciated._

_Pro: I really like her!_

_Con: Why?_

She flopped onto her back to lay stretched out on her carpet, her list sliding off of her knees.

Why did she like Quinn Fabray? Everything inside her screamed she shouldn't, that it was ludicrous, but she still did. Why?

There was a soft knock at her door. Rachel's hand reached for the list and turned it upside down.

"Come in."

Her daddy poked his head around the door. "Are you okay, baby girl? We haven't seen you all morning."

She twisted her head around to see her alarm clock and was surprised to see it was almost noon. She'd been obsessing about this for three hours!

"I'm fine, Daddy. I've just had some things to think about."

"Anything I can help you with?"

"I don't know." She normally told her parents everything, but she didn't know if she could talk about this.

He came further into the room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed so that he could look down into her troubled face.

"Try me."

"How do you know the difference between a crush and actually liking someone?"

"Well, a crush is normally the first sign that you actually like someone."

"I guess that makes sense. Do you think it's possible to get liking someone as a friend confused with liking someone romantically?"

Hiram Berry was quiet for a moment. "I do, but I don't think it's possible to confuse them for very long."

"Can you explain?"

"Well, I think that you can tell the difference as soon as you know whether you want to kiss that person or not. If you don't want to kiss them then you're probably just friends, if you do . . . maybe it's something more."

"Did you want to kiss Dad as soon as you met him?"

Her Daddy chuckled, "I wanted to strangle your Dad as soon as I met him. He was infuriating, and – don't ever tell him I told you this, but – he was a capital D-I-V-A when the troupe first came together. Of course, if you ask him he'll say my capitals were more like B-I-T-C . . . well, you get the idea."

Rachel laughed but then groaned. That didn't really help. "So it wasn't love at first sight?"

"No, it was. It just took us both a while to realize it. What's this about, baby girl? Have you met someone? Is it that boy from Glee you were talking about?"

"No, it's not Finn. I am in Glee with them though."

"Who is it then?"

Rachel hesitated; she'd told her Dads too many stories about Quinn's previous attitude to be comfortable divulging without giving it some thought.

"I'd rather not say yet."

"Okay. Well, you know where we are if you change your mind." Her daddy stood from the bed. "It's salad for lunch so just come down when you're ready. And you're Dad was talking about having a movie night tonight, after your vocal lesson. Care to join us?"

"Thanks, Daddy." She knew her Dad had suggested no such thing, because movie nights were Sunday, but her daddy would make it happen if it would cheer her up. "I'd like that."

"We'll stop by Blockbuster on the way home from your session." He blew her a kiss and then left her alone.

Rachel curled up on her side, dragging her list closer to her.

_Pro: Capital B-I-T-C-H or not, I know Quinn would make an admirable and stimulating love interest/significant other._

_Con: She'll never feel the same about me._


	19. Something's Bound To Begin

****I was going to spend a little bit of time replying personally to all the reviews for the last chapter before posting this, but then I figured you'd probably prefer to just read the next chapter than me saying Thanks! So here it is and here's a cover-all Thanks! to be going on with.

We're heading back towards canon with this chapter and in honor of such the chapter title is taken from 'Maybe This Time'.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen:<strong>

**Something's Bound To Begin.**

Monday was a rude awakening for Rachel. She couldn't stay in Glee club anymore, not with the way she was being treated!

She could handle not being liked, but to have her talent so disrespected . . . No, it wasn't acceptable.

So she left, knowing that having the lead role in the school musical would be much more rewarding and ultimately better for her future plans.

She hardly thought of Quinn all day because of the uproar in her mind, and when she did think of her she could only imagine that Quinn would be secretly thankful not be faced with her presence every afternoon.

* * *

><p>Quinn spent Monday purposely avoiding Berry; it was easier than she expected it to be.<p>

She'd seen her at her locker before lunch, but Rachel hadn't even looked up as she walked past. She'd seen her again in Biology, but their desks might as well have been miles apart and the other girl never once tried to make eye-contact.

She was starting to feel like she'd done something wrong.

At least she'd be able to force some interaction with her in Glee club; even if she had to do it under the guise of antagonizing her.

That proved fruitless too because Rachel had left. Rachel had _quit _Glee! Where was she when that decision had been made?

Quinn heard something about a school musical and how Berry's talents hadn't been appreciated enough but she wasn't really listening. She knew Rachel had quit over her, because of what had happened Friday night, and she was torn between blaming herself and being mad at Rachel for over-reacting. Hadn't she said she was okay about the kiss? Or had Rachel remembered the truth and was angry at Quinn for lying?

Either way, by the end of the session she was pissed, both at Rachel and herself.

* * *

><p>Tuesday morning, Berry wasn't in American Literature.<p>

Quinn made several huffy noises and glared at the empty chair next to her too many times to be considered normal, convinced now that the girl was totally avoiding her.

Well, good! Berry should avoid her! Because Quinn hated her and was definitely going to kick her ass the next time they crossed paths – you know, if that _ever _happened again.

She only found out, in fourth period from Tina, that Rachel had been at a Career's Advisor meeting first period and therefore excused from the lesson.

That didn't mean she wasn't still trying to avoid her though!

"Can I talk to you?"

Surprised, Quinn looked up at her boyfriend wondering why he sounded nervous. "Of course."

Finn shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, waiting beside her locker until she was done.

When she was he sort of herded her to the nearest alcove and sat down, gesturing for her to do the same.

She did. "What's up?"

"I talked to Miss Pillsbury today."

"And?"

"Well, she didn't say it, exactly, but she kind of implied that with the baby and all, I need to get a scholarship."

"You told her I'm pregnant?" Quinn snapped, looking around, expecting to see her poking her ginger head through the door.

"No! I haven't told anybody! She just seemed to know, you know? Anyway, she had a point. If I'm going to support us I need to go to college to get a decent job, and as much as I'd like to get a football scholarship, our team _sucks_! Miss Pillsbury said I might be able to get a music scholarship though," he shrugged endearingly. "If New Directions does okay at Regionals."

"Okay," she said slowly. "So we practice more. We make sure we win."

He looked at his feet. "We can't win without Rachel."

That was true.

"You know that," he added.

"Yeah, well Stubbles left. There's nothing we can do about it."

"What if there is?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Like what?"

"Look. Don't be mad, okay? But she likes me, and . . . and I feel bad even suggesting this, but maybe, I don't know, I can, like, use that."

"For what?"

"To get Rachel to join Glee again."

Quinn's stomach was sinking. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"I thought maybe . . . I could, like, take her out and, I don't know, talk her into coming back."

"You want to ask her out and lead her on, just so she'll come back to Glee?"

"I wouldn't, like, kiss her or anything," Finn said quickly. "Just . . ."

"Show her a good time?" Quinn asked sarcastically.

"It would be for us, for the baby!" he insisted.

"No."

"But . . . we need Rachel to win."

Quinn nodded. "Fine. But you are not going on a date with her! I'll find a way to get her back in Glee club."

"Really?"

She licked her lips, mind already racing with possibilities. "Yeah. Leave it to me."

* * *

><p>Rachel watched Jacob Ben Israel and Mr. Ryerson walk out and then looked down at her breasts. Could she really show her bra to Jacob just to avoid a bad review on his terrible website? She didn't think so, but . . .<p>

"Are you checking yourself out?"

Startled, she looked up to see Quinn standing just inside the door, smirking at her. "No, I was just . . . Can I help you with something?"

Quinn frowned at her disinterested tone but stepped deeper into the room. "I was just wondering how the musical was going?"

"It's going very well thank you. It's nice to be somewhere where I'm finally appreciated for once."

"You were appreciated in Glee club."

"No. I wasn't. Nobody even likes me."

"There's a difference between being liked and being appreciated. Everyone misses your amazing talent."

Rachel smiled at the surprising source of the compliment as much as the compliment itself, but it only lasted a second before she remembered how upset she was with the Glee club in general.

"Then they should have thought about that before they ostracized me. I'm much happier being a solo artist. Being part of an ensemble was just slowing me down."

"I see."

Rachel nodded and then took a seat at the piano, putting her back to Quinn. She couldn't look at her any more, it was too hard to keep the twin cartoon love hearts from her eyes after a weekend spent obsessing about her.

"Don't you think you're being a little selfish though?"

She shook her head. "No. I think Mr. Schuester was being selfish by giving my solo to Tina. That's why I left."

"I wasn't even there when you made your decision."

Rachel looked down at the black and white keys, hesitating because she didn't know how to take that comment.

"Well, you were never a deciding factor," she said softly.

"Ouch." Rachel tensed when Quinn sat on the piano bench beside her. It wasn't really big enough for two. "I want you to change your mind."

"I. . . I'm invested in the musical now."

"After the musical then."

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"How else are we going to spend time together, Rachel?"

Her eyes snapped to Quinn's. "I wasn't aware we'd ever spent that much time conversing in Glee before. In fact you usually use any interaction we do have to make fun of me in front of your friends."

Quinn ducked her head, "Fine, you're right." Their eyes met again. "Maybe it could be different though, maybe."

"I'm sorry, Quinn, I would like to be your friend, but I'm not betting my future on whether or not you can change."

"I don't _need_ to change," Quinn growled, and Rachel was suddenly very aware their faces were only inches from each other and she'd apparently just poked the wolf with a sharp stick for real this time. "I'm offering an olive branch here, Berry. If you don't want it . . ."

"I do! I just . . ." Rachel shook her head, not knowing how to articulate her feelings.

Quinn suddenly changed the subject. "Do you like bowling?"

"I-I've never been."

"It'll do you good. Me, Santana and Brittany always go bowling before a big Cheer competition. It helps us to loosen up and focus. I think it would really help you too – you're so stressed with everything right now. So do you want to go?"

She grimaced, "With Santana and Brittany?"

"No, just the two of us. We can talk about the musical. I'll even help you practice your lines."

Rachel smiled uncertainly. "There is a lot of dialogue."

"That's settled then. I'll pick you up at seven. It's a date . . . well, not a _date_ . . ."

Was Quinn giving her a flirtatious smile? Rachel really didn't know at this point and before she could question it Mr. Schue was walking into the room with a forty-something blonde in tow.

Rachel nodded politely at all three of them before leaving the room as quickly as possible.

She was going bowling with Quinn Fabray tonight!

How, in Barbra's name, had that happened?

* * *

><p>Quinn looked at her fifth outfit in the mirror.<p>

She was only going bowling, choosing what to wear really shouldn't be this hard.

Her cell phone rang and she absently picked it up from the bed and answered it without looking at the screen.

"Hello."

"_Hey, what are you doing tonight? Got a free house 'til twelve. Britt's coming over. Wanna go halves on some wine coolers?"_

She wanted to do nothing more than forget about going out with Berry and spend the evening with her friends. Even if she couldn't drink, she could pretend to. Maybe she could even tell them the truth. They were her best friends after all.

"Sorry, San. I have plans. Next time though."

"_What plans? Come on, Q, blow off Finn for once. We never hang out anymore."_

"Not with Finn. I, uh, it's a thing with my parents. A church thing. My parents told Pastor Williams I'd sing on Sunday and they want me to run through it with them tonight."

It was a lie, but it had been a truth in the past so Santana bought it easily enough.

"_Damn, you're boring. This weekend though, we're doing something, bitch, whether you like it or not."_

"Count me in." Quinn glanced at her clock. She had to pick Berry up in fifteen minutes. "I really have to go though."

"_Fine. Later."_ Santana hung up without waiting for a reply.

Quinn put her phone in her bag and checked her reflection, _again_, before finally leaving her room.

* * *

><p>Rachel was completely and utterly confused and had been ever since she'd left the Choir room that afternoon.<p>

Quinn had asked her out. She had _definitely _asked her out. But why? It had the flavor of a classic Cheerios prank – build her up high with the promise of acceptance and friendship before knocking her back down as fully and humiliatingly as possible – but the timing was strange. Why would Quinn pull such a stunt now when their animosity was at an all time low?

If it wasn't a prank – and she really wasn't ruling that out – then what other reason was there? It wasn't like they were friends. Okay, they'd had a few shared moments recently and Friday night had been . . . well, it was still pretty hazy but according to the letter Quinn had enjoyed her company, but enough to ask her to go bowling?

As Rachel sat in her bedroom, having already eaten and showered, she tried to distract herself with homework so that she that didn't bounce around the room in excitement and/or fret constantly.

Maybe Quinn just needed someone to talk to. After all, she was the only person besides Finn, and Puck, who knew about the baby and perhaps Quinn just wanted to discuss her situation with another girl. That was perfectly understandable and a role – one of many – Rachel felt she had been born to play.

Abandoning her Math homework, she turned to her computer instead. She didn't know the first thing about pregnancy and it was too late to take a trip to the Planned Parenthood center to interview any of the staff there, but Google would do in a pinch.

By the time six-thirty came around and it was time to get dressed, she had a number of print outs neatly fastened into a pale yellow folder.

Now, what did one wear to go bowling?

More importantly, what did one wear to go bowling with Quinn Fabray?

* * *

><p>Quinn was ridiculously nervous as she drove – much slower than usual – to the Berry residence. She hadn't been this nervous before her first date with Finn! Not that this was a date, no way, but she had to make it look like one if she was going to achieve her goal.<p>

She needed to send Berry's crush into overdrive if she was going to override the girl's stubbornness about returning to Glee club and get her to do what she wanted.

Passing a gas station, she thought about buying some flowers. Finn hadn't bought _her _any on their first date – or any other time as far as she could remember – but it was something she would have appreciated, and Berry was a girl so surely she would too.

Oh, _God, _she was going on a date with a girl! And the very idea of turning up with flowers made her palms sweat against the steering wheel, so she didn't stop.

Her mind was warring right now, battling over the need to make this as much like a date as possible and the fear of making it too much like one. She was okay with the idea of leading Berry on; it was just something she had to do, and better her than Finn. She wasn't so okay with the tiny little voice in her head that was jumping up and down in excitement over it. She'd been trying to quash that voice all afternoon, but the closer the 'date' came the louder it squealed. It was unsettling and she didn't like it in the least.

She didn't _like_ Berry like that! She knew she didn't. She couldn't. She really didn't want to. She didn't know why on earth she might.

She _wouldn't_!

Tonight was a means to an end, that was all. She was playing to her strengths to get what she wanted and right now one of her strengths just happened to be an ability to make Berry swoon. Not that the girl had actually swooned or anything, but she was definitely in the pre-swoon stage.

Quinn most definitely was not. She didn't swoon for girls, especially not girls like Rachel-freaking-Berry. As long as she could remember that all night, this 'date' would go smoothly and Finn would get his scholarship. Hell, maybe even she'd get a scholarship out of it.

Despite forgoing the flowers, her hands were still sweating when she pulled into the Berry driveway.

* * *

><p>Rachel had been hovering by the front door anxiously and as soon as she heard a car slow down in the road she pressed her eye to the peep hole.<p>

She hadn't wanted to be seen waiting eagerly by any of the windows in case this _was _a prank and Quinn, Santana and Brittany were all sitting across the road laughing at her with a camera ready to catch her vulnerable excitement.

Seeing a red blur pull into her drive – Quinn's car – she stepped back to straighten her skirt and then, with a deep breath to calm her nerves – it didn't work – she opened the door and stepped out.

Quinn was already halfway up the walk when she looked up and apparently the sight of Rachel right in front of her was startling.

"Oh, I was going to knock."

"I saw you coming."

Quinn smiled, but it looked forced. It added another point in the 'prank' column.

"I thought your parents might want to say hello or something before we left."

Rachel panicked at the idea of her Dads meeting Quinn. They were polite people but this _was _Quinn Fabray. "Why?"

Quinn seemed to suddenly share her panic. "Oh, no reason, I just thought . . . So are you ready?"

"Yes." The panic heightened as she wondered what Quinn could mean. After all, she was halfway to her car, why wouldn't she be ready? "I mean, I think I am. Do I look okay? I wasn't sure what people wore to go bowling. I don't want to embarrass you."

Quinn gave her short blue skirt and white patterned T-shirt a once over. "You look fine. Great even." With a half smile she returned the question. "Do I look okay?"

This was possibly the first time she'd seen Quinn out of her Cheerios uniform since middle school – Glee performances aside – and she certainly looked okay. Dressed in pale blue jeans and a vibrant coral t-shirt, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders for once, she looked . . . what was the correct term for a hot cheerleader not in their cheerleading uniform? Oh yeah, just . . . hot!

"You look very nice."

"Thanks." Quinn's smile looked slightly more natural now.

At the car Quinn opened the passenger door for her, waited until she was seated and then closed it gently. By the time she'd slipped into the drivers' seat Rachel's questioning eyebrows had already gone back down.

Rachel watched her as Quinn twisted in her seat to pull back out on to the road, wondering whether or not to voice her concerns. In the end, as always, she did.

"I don't want to sound discourteous or anything, but . . . I really need to know."

Quinn gave her a glance before setting her eyes back on the road. "What?"

"Do they have slushies at the bowling alley?"

"Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"I'm just wondering how many might end up on my head tonight."

"Why would any end up on your head?"

"Quinn, I'm not stupid. You've already let slip that this is a favorite rendezvous point of yours and Santana's and Brittany's. Do you really expect me to not assume I am being lured there for some nefarious reason?"

Quinn's laugh sounded hurt but she kept her gaze on the road so Rachel couldn't tell whether it reached her eyes.

"I'm not luring you there to do anything other than bowl and have fun."

"You promise?"

Did Quinn's hands just tighten on the steering wheel?

"I promise."

"Okay. I trust you."

They definitely tightened that time.

"I just wanted to spend some time with you, Rachel, but if you're scared I can turn around and take you home."

"No," she said, too quickly. "I want to spend time with you too."

Quinn nodded and relaxed her grip on the wheel.

* * *

><p>So this was going well. Quinn subtly rolled her eyes as she drove towards Lima's only bowling alley.<p>

She'd been counting on Berry's usually unstoppable chatter to counter the weirdness she was feeling, but the girl was being uncharacteristically silent. It was making her even more on edge and she didn't understand it. She was normally so confident on dates and, true, she wasn't normally the one initiating them but she hadn't expected her composure to fall apart completely.

"So, uh, did you bring your script? We could run some of the lines."

"While you're driving? That doesn't sound very safe."

Quinn chuckled, "No, I meant when we got there."

"I thought we were going bowling."

"In-between frames!"

"Oh. I did actually. I carry it everywhere at the moment, just in case I get a minute to practice. There really is a lot of dialogue and I want to be ready when we start full rehearsals."

Quinn slowed at the intersection behind a line of cars; signalled to turn left and gave Rachel her full attention for as long as she could. "When's that?"

"Thursday after school, I think."

"Well, I'll help tonight. In-between bowling."

"Thank you, Quinn. Is bowling hard?"

She laughed, "No, Berry, you just pick up the ball and roll it. Even you can do it."

"Are you any good? I don't want to embarrass myself in front of a professional."

Quinn shrugged modestly. "I'm okay. Brittany's the real pro though. She gets a strike eleven times out of ten. Santana and I don't even count her score anymore, we just compete between ourselves."

"The three of you have never struck me as the type to frequent bowling alleys."

"We don't much anymore. Just before competitions, really. Fall semester of freshman year we were here every other night."

Quinn pulled into the large parking lot only to find there were no available spaces near the bowling alley. She drove slowly up one aisle, rounded the bend and came back the other way; both she and Rachel looking out for a gap between cars.

"Ooh, there!" Quinn put her foot down a little as Rachel pointed but it turned out to not be a space but a ridiculously compact hybrid car parked between two sensibly sized Fords. "Sorry, false alarm. So why did you stop?"

She was forced to park all the way at the far end near the closed outlet mall and the Golden Duck Chinese take out in the end. She'd never realized Lima had such a thriving Tuesday night night-life before.

"None of us had the status we do now back then. Bowling's fun, but it doesn't really fit with the Cheerios reputation, you know? Unless you're just here to hang off your boyfriend's arm and talk about how ugly the shoes are and _not _eat the bowl of Nachos you ordered even though all that disgusting calorie infested cheese smells freaking delicious and . . ." As she turned off the ignition and pulled her keys free she knew by the look on Rachel's face that she'd said more than she meant to. "I guess I just miss going bowling to actually _bowl._"

The girl nodded, looking surprised and happy to be confided in, even with something as small and stupid as this.

"Anyway," Quinn opened her door. "Let's see if your natural talents extend to rolling a ball at a set of pins."

* * *

><p>Quinn had been downplaying her skills. She knocked down eight of the white pins with her first ball and had then taken out the remaining two with her second.<p>

Rachel looked nervously at the bright pink ball Quinn was holding out to her. "I don't know if I can."

"Of course you can. Just stick your fingers in the holes . . ." Her nose wrinkled at that idea. ". . . and throw the ball."

"Is it hygienic?"

"Not really, but you can wash your hands before we eat."

"Okay." Rachel gingerly stuck her fingers and thumb in the provided holes and took the ball from her. It was heavier than she expected. "Wait, we're eating?"

"They have really good pizza here. Now concentrate." Quinn gestured her towards the lane.

Rachel stepped up to the line and gave it her best shot. The ball thumped heavily to the floor before rolling straight into the gutter.

"Okay, when I said 'throw it' I didn't mean literally."

"It's harder than you make it look!"

"It's really not. Here." Quinn held out another pink ball and waited for her to take it. "Let me show you."

Quinn turned her to face the lane and then slid smoothly up behind her. As one hand curled around her left hip, Rachel's heart beat a little faster. Quinn was pressed against her back. Not terribly firmly or anything, it wasn't as if she could feel Quinn's breasts smooshed against her but the very fact that Quinn's breasts were on her mind proved that they were also on her back – more so as the cheerleader leaned to take her right wrist and hold it steady in her hand.

"Think of it like dancing. Step, step, step . . ." Quinn was speaking almost directly into her ear and Rachel couldn't help the shiver that ran through her as she was propelled slowly forwards. "Now curtsey." Quinn bent with her, pulling her right arm back as she did before pushing it forwards and releasing her wrist. "And just let go."

Rachel sent the ball flying down the lane. It travelled at an angle but . . . She knocked down _two_ pins!

"Yes!" She pumped an arm in the air, finding the closeness of Quinn and her bowling triumph combined totally exhilarating.

Behind her, Quinn laughed and moved away. "See, you're a natural."

Rachel spun around excitedly. "Can I have another go?"

"No, it's my turn." She pouted and Quinn rolled her eyes. "Not gonna work on me, Berry. I like bowling even more than I like you."

Rachel's eyes went wide, immediately followed by Quinn's as she realized what had slipped out of her mouth. She didn't make a thing out of it though, just selected a purple ball and quickly bowled it down the lane. Too quickly. It hit the gutter inches shy of knocking down a pin.

Rachel smiled impishly. "Do you need me to show you how to do it?"

She heard a noise almost like a growl come from the back of Quinn's throat as she picked up another purple ball. Her bowl was just as fast but far more controlled and the sound of all ten pins crashing down was loud.

"What do you think?"

Rachel just smiled.

* * *

><p>Quinn waited until their pizza was set down in front of them before moving onto phase two of making Berry swoon. Well, it was phase three now, she supposed, considering phase two had accidentally become rub up against Berry under the pretence of teaching her how to roll a damn ball down a lane.<p>

Shaking her head, she could only hope she wasn't blushing as hard as she felt she was at her method of tutelage. Pastor Marnce certainly hadn't taught her that way on her first Sunday school bowling trip. It had been a very date-like thing to do though, so she could at least claim points for that even if her 'plan' had been the furthest thing from her mind at the time.

"So get the script out."

Rachel smiled. "I don't think I want to run lines tonight."

"Oh." Did she sound disappointed?

If she did it was only because she'd been looking forward to Rachel needing her for something for a change. It would balance them out a little. Also there was the worry that now they weren't actively engaged in bowling the awkwardness would come back. And awkwardness wouldn't help her goal.

"I just meant I'd rather talk, if that's okay," Rachel sounded nervous.

"Sure." Quinn shrugged. "Did you want to talk about bowling, because I really only have two words to say about that – you suck!"

Rachel laughed. "I do not! I'm only fifty points behind you."

"Yeah . . . that's _a_ _lot._"

"Not for a beginner. But I had another topic of conversation in mind anyway."

Quinn nodded slowly, "Okay. What?"

"Well, it stemmed from me wondering why you asked me out tonight. I now believe you were sincere in telling me it wasn't a prank but I'm still confused as to why."

"I can't just ask you out . . . as friends?"

She hadn't meant to add that last part.

"Of course you can, but I find it a little unusual, seeing as you're the one who keeps insisting we can't be friends. So I assume there is an ulterior motive."

"This isn't an _actual_ date, Rachel." Why was she admitting that? "I'm sorry if it feels like I'm leading you on."

"I never for a second thought it was, Quinn." Rachel sounded like she was telling the truth, and why did that hurt? "In fact I don't know why you're so insistent on assuming that I even want a date with you."

Quinn's lips curled into a smirk. "Fine. I mean, I'm the one who has perfect clarity about last Friday night, but fine, if you insist."

Rachel blushed and looked panicked for a second but shook it off.

"I was actually going to ask about your . . . situation."

"What do you mean, my 'situation'?" Quinn's eyes darted around nervously, because she knew exactly what situation Rachel was referring to and on what planet was Rachel under the illusion that it was okay to talk about it – in public no less!

"Well, I _know_, obviously, but we haven't talked about it. I thought you might want to."

"I don't."

"Are you going to keep it?"

Quinn's eyes darted around again. "Shut up."

Rachel ignored her again. "You can't be that far along yet so abortion is still an option, if you wanted . . ."

"Don't even say that word!" Quinn hissed, feeling coldness in the pit of her stomach. "It's a sin!"

"No it isn't. And at our age it's a perfectly sensible option if you feel . . ."

"No! I can't do that!"

In a purely objective way she was pro-choice. Her religion notwithstanding, there was some circumstances where . . . _that_ . . . obviously was a sensible option but hers wasn't one of them. She'd made a grave error in judgement and it was something she had to live with and the innocent baby inside her shouldn't be . . . _dismissed_ . . . just because she was a reckless idiot.

"Okay." Rachel picked up a slice of pizza. "So you're keeping it?"

"I don't know. I mean, yes, I'm not going to get rid of it, but I . . . don't know about after yet. My options are kind of limited."

That was an understatement. She could keep it and remain stuck here, a Lima loser forever, or she could take Mrs. Schuester up on her offer, a woman she was half sure was completely loco.

Rachel nodded, and her voice was sympathetic as she said, "You must be scared. I know I would be."

Quinn nodded and picked up her own slice. "I've never done anything wrong before. At least, not wrong like this."

"You didn't do anything wrong. You just had some bad luck."

While Rachel delicately picked the pepperoni off of her slice – Quinn hadn't actually asked her what she wanted, just ordered her own favorite, maybe she wasn't a better date than Finn – she merely held hers in her hand, staring at it like a foreign object she didn't know what to do with.

"Have you been to see a doctor yet?"

Quinn nodded, still looking at her slice. "I drove out to the free clinic to get it confirmed. I have my first ultrasound in a few weeks."

"That's good."

She looked up. "Really?"

"Yes. Correct prenatal care is essential for a healthy mother and baby."

She looked away. "I guess."

"So you're thinking about adoption?"

Quinn shrugged.

"My dads discussed adoption."

Quinn looked back at her, surprised. "They weren't going to keep you?"

Rachel laughed, "No, I mean before they found a surrogate. They actually looked into adoption first. There are so many children in the world that need a good home already . . . but as I'm sure you can imagine being two gay men didn't make that process very easy – especially seventeen years ago. That's why they went with surrogacy in the end."

"If there are so many babies already needing homes, how's mine going to fare?" She hated that her voice caught at least twice in the sentence.

Rachel reached over and gently covered her hand. "Your baby is going to do just fine. Better than fine. Wherever it ends up it's going to have the best life. How could it not? It's the child of Quinn Fabray and Finn Hudson, it's going to be perfect," she added with a soft smile.

A tear rolled down Quinn's cheek and she had to stop this before more fell.

She shook Rachel's hand away from her own under the pretext of reaching for a napkin. "Thanks, but can we talk about something else?"

"Of course, but please know that I'm always here if you ever do want to talk about it."

Quinn nodded, feeling like she was actually a little bit in love with Rachel-freaking-Berry right now. She couldn't stand the idea of it and forced herself back on mission.

"Let's talk about you coming back to Glee."

"I'm not coming back to Glee."

"Yes you are."

Rachel smiled at Quinn's dogged persistence. "No I'm not."

Quinn sighed, and took a conversational step back. It wouldn't do to push so hard that Rachel became suspicious because then the tenacious girl would just dig her heels in even further.

"So what do you think of bowling so far?"

"If this is the part where we talk about how ugly the shoes are I'm going to have to disappoint you." Rachel straightened one leg out to the side of the table so they could both look down at the blue and red footwear. "I rather like the bold pattern. And the colors go with my outfit."

Quinn looked from the shoe up to Rachel's face which held an expression of the most earnest appreciation of footwear anywhere. Quinn couldn't even tell if she was making fun of the shoe or herself or if she really genuinely liked them, but as she started laughing, she realized she didn't care – either way it was awesome.

Twenty minutes later the tension that had been there between them from the start of the evening was as good as gone. They hadn't talked about Glee or her pregnancy any more, but the conversation about the shoes had led to a discussion on the bowling shirts many of the patrons wore (Rachel wasn't such a fan of those so Quinn was pleased she'd left hers hanging in her closet instead of wearing it tonight.) She did mention it though, because jeez, Berry was hardly one to talk about fashion choices.

"It's kind of a shiny pink. Not this pink," she added, pulling at the front of her t-shirt. "Pale pink, like um . . ." She thought for a second, looking around to find a close comparison somewhere on the lanes. Then it came to her, "Oh, I know, it's the same pink as that polo shirt you sometimes wear to school; you know, the cute one with the short sleeves?"

Rachel nodded mutely, eyes big and round again for whatever reason.

"And it has my name stitched here," she ran a finger over her left breast. "In silver-blue."

She didn't know how to feel about Rachel's eyes keenly following the path of her fingertip before guiltily dropping away like she was embarrassed. She definitely felt something, but she couldn't name it, or maybe she just didn't dare to.

"And on the back, it says . . ."

"Pink Ladies?" Rachel guessed eagerly and Quinn chuckled around a delicate bite of pizza.

"No, _Fabray,_ but you obviously get the idea."

That led to a discussion on Grease and Grease II which surprisingly, considering her company, was mostly centred around whether motorbikes were cooler than cars rather than which had the better quality of music or plot. By the time they'd agreed to disagree (and Quinn was past the point of being able to endlessly point out that safety shouldn't factor into which was coolest, not in a hypothetical discussion anyway!) the pizza was finished and Quinn had polished off all of the discarded pepperoni from Rachel's half.

It wasn't as hard to have a real conversation with the girl when she was sober as Quinn had expected, if anything it was too easy. It seemed like a good reason to move things along before either of them became _too_ comfortable.

Quinn used a napkin to wipe away any remains of pizza sauce from her lips as she stood up.

"Okay, last ball. Show me what you got, Berry."

Against all odds she was really enjoying her evening – the short talk about her pregnancy not included, but even then it had been nice to have someone care, and ask the questions she'd been battling with inside her own mind.

She wished she could have opened up a little more, actually talked about it, but she still wasn't comfortable enough to do that. She still hadn't had a lengthy discussion about it with Finn (or Puck), always shutting him down quickly when he brought up the baby. It was just too hard to think about, let alone have a conversation about.

Rachel had grabbed a pink ball eagerly and was now putting her fingers in the holes. "I want to make my last ball really count. Do you think you could help me again?"

Quinn knew exactly what she was asking. "I think you've got the technique down now."

"But it would really be useful and . . . and it might help me think more objectively about returning to Glee if I don't have to worry about how terrible I am at bowling."

Okay, who was playing who now?

"Fine." She stepped up behind Rachel, but kept a little distance between them this time for the sake of sanity. She cupped her left hip and reached forward to take her right wrist. "Ready?"

Rachel's head bobbed and she pushed up on her toes a few times excitedly. "Yes."

"Okay, then, step . . . step . . . step . . ."

She didn't add anything else, just directed Rachel with her hands and the dip of her knees. She'd pretty much forgotten what they were doing anyway as soon as the lemony scent of Rachel's t-shirt mixed with the subtle flowery smell of her shampoo was close enough to assault her senses. When Quinn had to press forward her nose _accidentally_ brushed Rachel's hair above her ear and her grip tightened around the slim wrist she was pulling back for a moment before remembering to release it so that Rachel could bowl the ball.

Either her slip went unnoticed or it gave Rachel the edge to find her inner-bowler. The ball rocketed straight down the lane, sending the ten pins flying in all directions as their perfect formation was smashed by the strike.

"I did it!"

Rachel threw both hands in the air this time and Quinn was just standing there smiling and she didn't think to move back and that was stupid because now the girl was turning and there were arms tightly wrapping around her neck and Rachel was still bouncing up and down and grinning up at her. . .

"Thank you, Quinn!"

The thunder of the balls, the clatter of the pins, the talking, the music, the air in the room, it all went away as she stared down into Rachel's bright, surprised, overjoyed eyes.

'_Don't you fucking dare!'_

It scared her that she was screaming it at herself and not Rachel. It scared her even more that she didn't seem to be listening.

And then Rachel was moving and she was moving, except Rachel was moving away and she wasn't. Her brain registered this before she could do anything too monumentally stupid and she stopped herself from leaning in any further but also kept Rachel right where she was by squeezing her around the waist – _when had she even put her arms around her?_

Rachel's hands rested lightly on Quinn's shoulders and she looked up with a quizzical smile. "Are you okay?"

"Come back to Glee," she whispered.

"I . . . I don't know." Rachel looked torn, sad even, her eyes tender and shiny at Quinn's softly-spoken request. "I'd have to quit the musical."

Quinn just couldn't push her anymore, not when she looked so distressed. She started to step back. "I understand . . ."

"No." Rachel urgently pressed forward, removing the gap between them again. "I'll do it! I'll come back tomorrow."

"Thank you," Quinn smiled down at her and drew Rachel into a tight hug.

Mission accomplished. So what if Finn's scholarship had been the furthest thing from her mind for most of the evening. To quote Coach Sylvester: _It didn't matter how you played the game . . . as long as you won!_

* * *

><p>Their moment of physical closeness was over almost as soon as Rachel had agreed to change her mind about Glee. Quinn stepped back, looking around embarrassed in case anyone had noticed her hugging Rachel Berry, but she was still smiling so Rachel didn't feel particularly hurt by it.<p>

In fact hurt was definitely not close to any of the things she was feeling right now. Topping the list was: wonderful. Amazing came a close second and On-top-of-the-world was hot on its heels in third place. Getting the lead in the school musical hadn't felt _this _good. That was all she needed, to know she'd made the right decision.

The intensity of her feelings actually scared her. She'd never felt this strongly for anyone before. It was overwhelming and she was almost pleased when Quinn said it was time for them to leave.

They finished their sodas in silence and then changed their bowling shoes for their regular ones at the booth.

"I had fun tonight. Thank you so much for teaching me to bowl, Quinn."

Quinn smirked at her innocent enthusiasm as she tied her sneakers. "You're welcome. I enjoyed it too."

"Do you know how to play pool?"

"Of course. Why?"

Shoes on, they grabbed their bags and headed for the exit.

"I don't. Perhaps you can teach me that too sometime."

She'd picked pool because there were three tables near the booth. She would have suggested motorcycle racing if her eyes had landed on one of them first – simply eager for another opportunity to spend an evening with Quinn.

Quinn took it differently. "I'm not bending you over a table, Berry."

"What?" She blushed. "No, I just meant . . ." Quinn was laughing at her. "You know what? Just forget I said anything."

It was a little chilly outside now but, even though she didn't have a coat with her, Rachel was glad of it. It helped cool her burning cheeks down as she stormed to the car at the far end of the lot. Why was she always embarrassing herself in front of Quinn?

"Hey, slow down, I'm sorry." When she didn't, Quinn hurried to catch up – her longer stride making it easy – and caught her wrist, stopping her completely. "I was just joking. I can teach you to play pool sometime if you want me to."

"I don't. Not if it means you bending me over a table."

"Like you wouldn't love that," Quinn teased.

"You have no idea what I'd love." She'd meant that to come out angry, somehow it had changed in her mouth and had come out flirty instead.

Flirty enough that Quinn cocked an eyebrow, her lips curling in a half smile as she licked her lips. She didn't say anything though, didn't add to their banter, and after a few seconds of smiling at her like that in the middle of the parking lot she looked away, leaving Rachel feeling vulnerable for unintentionally putting herself out there.

The warmth of Quinn's palm sliding down her wrist to silently take her hand made up for it.

"Come on. It's cold."

As she was tugged to the car it caused half a memory to resurface. "Did we hold hands Friday night?"

Quinn smirked. "Once or twice."

Rachel smiled. "Did I really kiss you?"

A shrug this time. "Once or twice." Quinn seemed to think about that and looked like she wanted to laugh again. "Or just once actually."

"I'm sorry. Thank you for not hitting me again."

"No problem. You were so drunk it would have been like hitting a clueless Labrador puppy anyway."

"I was like a puppy?" Rachel was horrified because it could mean only one thing. "Oh no, did I slobber all over you? I'm so sorry, Quinn, I haven't had much experience as you know and the lack of practice . . ."

"Berry, relax! There was _no_ slobber." When they reached the car Quinn opened the passenger door for her. "You kiss just fine."

Rachel slid into her seat. "Really?" Quinn nodded and she looked up with a hopeful smile. "Did you kiss me back?"

The passenger door thunked closed and she had to wait until Quinn was sliding into the drivers' seat for a reply.

"Of course not. But if I was interested in girls like that, who knows, I might've." She started the engine. "Pick a CD, they're in the . . ."

"Glove compartment," Rachel finished, although she couldn't remember how she knew that.


	20. These Secrets Must Remain Our Own

****Hi guys :) Thanks for all the reviews. You guys are the greatest. Happy St. Patrick's day.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nineteen:<strong>

**These Secrets Must Remain Our Own.**

Quinn's head was inside her locker, looking for an elusive biology textbook, when she heard a shoulder connect with the locker beside hers. She didn't acknowledge it right away, convinced it would be Berry and in no way ready to deal with her yet.

She was beyond freaked out about last night. She hadn't been; she'd been fine for the rest of the evening, happy that she'd gotten what she wanted and that she'd had a nice time in the process. She'd been completely okay with the warmth created by spending an evening in Rachel's company, she'd even been making half-formed plans about asking her out again sometime – just as friends, but even that was a big step – right up until she'd woken up at five am in a cold sweat over the whole thing.

She hadn't been able to go back to sleep after her nightmare – a nightmare that had only become a nightmare after she'd woken up – and now she was on edge and the thought of seeing Berry made her feel just a little bit sick. The fact that the morning sickness was having a blast today and making her feel _a lot_ sick, and that Berry was fast becoming the only thing in the world that could keep it at bay, was just making the morning way too difficult.

Add to that the fact that Berry shouldn't even be trying to speak to her outside of Glee, and certainly not waiting expectantly at her locker to be acknowledged, was also making her angry. Because now she'd have to shout at her, or put her down in some way so anyone noticing this irregularity in the social order wouldn't think it was welcomed, and however freaked out she was, she didn't want to hurt Rachel. Not after last night.

All of this was racing through her mind, making her oblivious to everything else, and so she physically jumped when Santana's voice floated over her shoulder and into her locker.

"So, how did practice go last night?"

Quinn pulled her head out, confused. "You were there at practice."

"Not Cheerios, your church singing thing. Did your Mom and Dad like it?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, I guess." She'd forgotten about her hastily concocted lie the night before. "Why?"

"Just, you better be good."

Santana was smirking at her and Quinn knew that expression. It made her stomach go cold and she didn't like that she didn't know the reason for her best friend's sudden smugness.

"Why?" she repeated.

"Well, I told Britt about it and now she wants to come and see you sing. It's this Sunday, right?"

What? No! That couldn't happen!

"Um, yeah, but no, you don't want to do that. It'll be boring. I mean, it's just me singing a hymn, it's nothing special."

"Don't put yourself down, Q. Me and Britts are really looking forward to your little performance."

"Please don't. I'm already nervous about standing up there in front of everyone. If I know you and Brittany are there . . ."

"Actually we thought about asking the rest of the Gleeks too. You know, to show our support and stuff. Schue will love it, all that club bonding."

Oh God! If she called Pastor Williams right now would he agree to let her sing for Sunday's congregation?

"I, uh, um, I, uh . . ."

"Wow, Quinn, I really hope for your sake the performance you put on on Sunday is more like the one you gave me last night, because so far this morning's sucks."

"What?"

Santana leaned in closer, dropping her voice. "You weren't practicing a song for church last night."

"Yes, I was."

"Oh really? So you met Manhands at the bowling alley just to get some pointers on perfect pitch?"

Ohhh,_ God_, "What? What do you mean?"

Had Santana been there too? Had she seen them? Because Rachel might have missed the fact that Quinn nearly kissed her after her strike but Santana could spot that shit from across a dark, crowded room _with_ sunglasses on.

"Brittany was in the mood for Kung Pao Chicken about nine-thirty last night so we took a little trip to the Golden Duck."

"But that's miles from your house."

"You know it's Britt's favorite. She likes the name or whatever. Anyway, you'll never guess what we spied through the window while we were waiting for our take out."

"Santana . . ."

"You two looked real cute holding hands, by the way. Sorry, not cute, I meant _disgusting_. What the hell, Fabray?"

Bristling, Quinn grabbed her friend's wrist and forcibly dragged her into the nearest empty classroom. Santana shook her off as soon as the door was closed.

"Don't touch me after touching _that_. I don't know if you've washed your hands yet."

"It's not what you think," she insisted urgently.

"So you and Stubbles _weren't_ on a date?"

"No! Or we were, but it was fake. I needed her to come back to Glee."

"Why? It's way better without her."

"I agree, but we won't _win_ anything without her. Look, Finn can get a scholarship for music if we do well, so he had this idea of asking her out and—" Quinn shrugged. "—seducing her into coming back."

"Dude, I didn't know Hudson could be so cold."

Neither had she, actually.

"Yeah, well, he isn't, so we both know he'd have messed it up. And I didn't want him spending the evening with _her_ either, not when she's so into him."

Santana's eyes narrowed. "Q, if she was that into him, she wouldn't have agreed to a date with you." There was a pause and then, "Damn, you _know_ she's crushing on you, don't you? That's how you knew you could take advantage of it. Why didn't you tell us? This is _awesome_."

It would be so much easier if she could just say yes, but if she betrayed Rachel's secret, that left her own open as fair game. Lying was the only way to guarantee her pregnancy wouldn't become common knowledge.

"Actually, I had to force things all night. I don't think she even wanted to be there. I had to lay it on really thick to get her to agree to come back. That's why I was holding her hand in public."

"But she did agree?" Santana was still suspicious.

"Yes. You know what she's like, desperate for attention. She might not have a crush on me but she's not going to pass up any chance to be my friend."

"So you two _are _friends now?"

"Don't be an idiot. I just have to make her think we are until the musical is over and then when all she has left is Glee, I'm done."

"Okay," Santana said, grinning slyly. "I guess messing with her like this has a certain appeal, namely the chance to see the look on her face when you drop her like a bag of hot crap in front of everyone. Don't expect _me_ to play nice though."

"I never would."

Quinn felt sicker than ever when they finally left the classroom, but satisfied that she had thrown Santana off of what was really going on.

Which was ridiculous because the 'plan' was the only thing that was going on!

_It's getting harder to convince yourself of that, huh?_

'_No!'_

_Lying is a sin, Quinn._

'_So is liking a girl, isn't it?'_

_Eh._

In her mind's eye Jesus was making a fifty-fifty gesture with his hand.

Growling in her throat – gaining her a strange look from Santana – Quinn stormed off to her first class.

* * *

><p>Rachel had a library pass for fourth period World Geography because the book she needed for her project on the indigenous species of fauna in Australia was in the encyclopaedia section and couldn't be checked out.<p>

She was nearing the double doors of the large, peaceful room, glad to be able to study away from the non-productive hustle and bustle environment of the classroom for once, when she saw Quinn for the first time all day. She smiled instinctively until she realized that Quinn was running from her own class to the nearest bathroom with a hand over her mouth.

Her smile dropped in sympathy and then, after checking to make sure no one else was around, she made her own way into the bathroom to check on her.

There was only one occupied stall and Rachel waited for a break in the retching before knocking gently on the locked door.

"Quinn, it's me."

"And?" Quinn's voice sounded harsh and choked and raw.

Rachel's eyes dropped to the tiled floor as she tucked some hair nervously behind her ear. She didn't know why she'd expected to be welcomed with open arms, even after last night. She was probably the last person Quinn wanted comforting her if she had a choice.

"I saw you running in here. I just wanted to see if you were okay."

Something no doubt disgusting hit the toilet bowl and it was minute before Quinn answered, her voice weaker than before but still severe. "Do I sound okay to you?"

"Can I get you anything?"

The lock disengaged and Rachel thought she was coming out, but when the door didn't open she pushed it slightly.

Quinn was still on her knees. "Get in here then."

Rachel relocked the door and got down on the floor. For the next five minutes she silently rubbed Quinn's back while the cheerleader repeatedly emptied her stomach.

"You must be sick of watching me throw up."

"It's okay." It didn't bother her that much, because of her growing crush, she suspected, or perhaps she was just becoming immune to it. "Is it really bad today?"

"Above average. I forgot to pick up a handkerchief this morning." Quinn used some toilet paper to wipe her mouth even though she was still leaning over the toilet. "So when the nausea hit me, it really hit."

"How far along are you?"

Some fine strands of blonde had escaped from her pony-tail and were clinging to the perspiration coating her cheeks. Rachel pulled them gently out of her face and back behind her ear, pleased to note that Quinn didn't flinch at all.

"Eight weeks," Quinn managed to get out before both of her palms slammed onto the toilet seat and she lurched forward to be sick again.

Rachel resumed stroking her back and cheerfully raised her voice over the noise that sounded like a cross between a mating Koala and an over-enthusiastic tennis player.

"Well on the bright side, according to my literature you should only have roughly another month of this to suffer through before your hormones begin to settle down."

Quinn gave a weak, sarcastic chuckle. "Oh, only another four weeks of puking my guts up on an hourly basis? That's okay then." She spat into the bowl. "What literature?"

"Last night, before our . . . outing, I took it upon myself to compile a folder of factual sheets relating to pregnancy, focusing mostly on what a teenage mother-to-be can expect. I think you'll find it covers most of the things you need to know. Obviously it shouldn't be seen as a substitute for regular doctor appointments, but the month by month guideline of what you can anticipate from your changing body is something I am particularly proud of."

It was one of two things she had added after getting home.

"I see."

"When you dropped me off last night I researched a standard adoption process too, just to give you an idea of how it works."

"So if you did the rest of it before our . . . bowling . . . why didn't you give it to me while we were out?"

"To be honest I was nervous that if I presented it to you in public you would start hitting me with it, like you did the magazine, and I didn't want to spoil the pleasant atmosphere of our . . . the evening."

Quinn wiped her mouth again and flushed the toilet before finally turning her body to face her. "Do you have it with you now?"

"No. I didn't think you'd appreciate me handing you something of that nature in the halls again either. It's in my locker, disguised as a health-science project."

Rachel tensed as Quinn leaned forward and put her arms around her neck, but she quickly realized what was going on.

"You're still feeling nauseous? I can take my sweater off for you if you'd be more comfortable."

Quinn chuckled against her neck. "What makes you think for a second I'd be comfortable with you taking your clothes off in front of me?"

"You know that's not what I was saying!" Rachel felt her cheeks redden at the very idea. "I just thought you would feel more at ease inhaling the scent without having to be so . . . so, um, close to me."

"I'm not feeling nauseous, Berry. This is a thank you hug."

"Oh." Rachel smiled; no one but her dads had ever given her a thank you hug before.

"You can make it a little less one-sided if you like. I feel like an idiot here."

"Oh, of course, sorry."

She put her arms loosely around Quinn, feeling extremely nervous even with just this light embrace. Which was ridiculous really considering Quinn's arms were tight around her neck, the cheerleader's face buried against her shoulder.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

A subtle sniff broke the following silence.

"I heard that."

Quinn chuckled again, "Okay, maybe I'm still a little bit nauseous. The thank you hug stands though. If we stay like this for a couple of minutes are you going to get in trouble? Shouldn't you be in class, I mean?"

She'd take a month of detentions if it meant she was able to stay just like this for another few minutes.

"No, I have a library pass. No one will miss me. I can stay like this all period if you need me to."

'_Because I'm so self-sacrificing,' _she thought with an inward chuckle, risking tightening her arms just a little around Quinn's back.

"Thanks, but_ I_ can't. I need to get back to the lesson at some point." Quinn shifted positions slightly, causing her nose to graze the side of Rachel's neck before settling back against her sweater. "I just need a five minute break from it."

Rachel, trying to stop her body from reacting to the accidental nose-to-neck contact, knew she meant the nausea and not the lesson. "Take as long as you need."

Quinn nodded against her and then an oddly comfortable silence fell as they held each other. Rachel shouldn't have let that happen - where was her inability to stop talking when she needed it? - because it lured her in and made her feel _too _at ease.

Quinn didn't seem to mind when she turned her head slightly, just enough so that _her_ nose was pressing against the loosened blonde hair behind the cheerleader's ear. Her not-as-subtle-as-she-was-aiming-for attempt at slowly breathing in through her nose only made Quinn press more against her, and Rachel felt flooded with warmth as Quinn's nose brushed higher again, pushing into her neck until she could feel nostrils flaring against her suddenly extra-aware skin. Smiling, overcome with fresh, wonderful new feelings, Rachel nuzzled deeper, boldly inhaling the perfect smell of Quinn's hair and . . .

The other girl jerked away from her.

She'd just kissed Quinn Fabray's ear!

"Sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay." Quinn was somehow already standing while Rachel was now sprawled against the door, panting in fear amongst other things. "It's okay. Just . . . move!"

Rachel shot unsteadily to her feet, almost landing in the toilet, so that Quinn could unlock the door and rush out of the stall.

She followed, wringing her hands in panic. "I can't believe I did that; I'm so sorry, Quinn."

"I said it's okay."

She was leaning over a sink, looking like she was about to be sick again.

Rachel kept her distance but asked, "Do you need me to rub your back?"

"No!"

"Okay. I'm really sorry."

"Stop apologizing!"

"Okay, sorry."

Quinn chuckled even as she leaned lower over the sinks. Her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing erratically but thankfully nothing came up this time.

"I hope you know you've really screwed me over here, Berry."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, sniffing you is obviously out until you've taken a cold shower and I still don't have any handkerchiefs."

Her major faux pas was being taken surprisingly well. As soon as she'd realized what she'd done Rachel had expected to leave the bathroom with at least one black eye, but Quinn was just teasing her about it. She would have preferred the black eye if she was honest because this leniency was just making her fall faster.

"Did you . . . I mean, you can borrow my sweater if you like. I'll go along with any lie about forcing me to give it to you that you want to make up."

She was cut a neutral look in the mirror. "Well, I should think so . . . you just had my earlobe in your mouth."

"It wasn't that bad!"

Quinn smirked, "Another few seconds and it would have been."

She wanted to retort that if Quinn had waited another few seconds then surely it was because she wanted her earlobe in Rachel's mouth, but thought better of it because Quinn _hadn't_ waited and she still couldn't rule out a punch in the near future.

"Anyway, thanks but no. Wearing your clothes once I can get away with, twice and even I won't be able to squash the rumors."

"Well, is there any way I can . . . Oh, wait, I know!"

Rachel delved into her bag and pulled out her scarf. It was cream cashmere that her Daddy had brought her so even Quinn couldn't find fault with it.

"You can wear this. I've only had it a couple of weeks and I haven't worn it in school yet because if it becomes the victim of a slushie it will be ruined. So no one will know it's mine."

Quinn turned from the sinks and took it from her, smiling when she felt how soft it was. "If it's new, have you washed it yet?"

Rachel nodded, "Just yesterday. I have to walk home today because Dad has a work-meeting and the weather-girl on WOHN last night said it was going to turn colder this afternoon and it seemed like the ideal time for its inaugural showcase."

Quinn gave it an experimental sniff and smiled again, but then reluctantly tried to hand it back. "Well, if you need it . . ."

"No, it's fine."

"I'm not going to leave you to freeze, Rachel."

"It's not going to be _that _cold. Just take it, please. You need it more than me and, anyway . . ." she stared guiltily down at the tiles. ". . . it will make me feel better for grievously molesting your ear."

Quinn sighed, went to speak and then apparently thought better of it. "Okay, thank you."

She wrapped the scarf around her neck, loosening it at the front so that she could tuck her nose into the wool just by dipping her head. Turning back to the mirrors she re-tied her pony-tail.

"I'll give you a ride home."

Rachel looked up in surprise. "What?"

"I'll take you home. That way I won't have to feel guilty about you freezing to death when you walk and . . ." she shrugged. ". . . you can give me your fact folder in private too."

"Okay." Meeting her eyes in the mirror, Rachel smiled. "Thank you. But aren't you worried someone might see me getting into your car?"

Quinn was putting on fresh lip gloss and didn't reply until she was done. "No, I've got that base covered already." She put the tube back in her bag, gave her reflection one last thorough check and then walked to the door. "See you in Glee, Rachel."

She watched the door swing closed behind the cheerleader.

What did she mean; she had 'that base covered'?


	21. Til Now I Always Got By On My Own

****You reviewers just keep getting better and better. I love you guys :) And thanks to everyone reading.

A/n: There's small amounts of canon dialogue mixed in with my own in the first scene. So if some of it sounds familiar, it's not mine (unless you're reading this chapter for the second time, and then it might be mine). Chapter title is straight from 'Alone' which was sung by April and Will in this episode. The more I borrow lyrics from it the more I realize it could be this fic's theme tune :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty:<strong>

'**Til Now I Always Got By On My Own.**

"Oh God, are you all stupid," Puck said, rising from his stool and stepping out in front of everyone else; his guitar hanging forgotten by his side. "Isn't it obvious? Quinn's got a _bun in the oven_."

His words were met with a stunned silence; it lasted until their gossip-fuelled brains had processed the accusation and then came a rush of chatter.

"Oh my God," Kurt gushed. "Of course. How didn't I see it?"

"That does k-kind of make sense," Tina looked around at everyone else for confirmation.

Mercedes frowned, "But who's the baby-daddy?"

"Rachel Manhands." Everyone in the Choir room looked at Brittany. She nodded. "Uh huh, we saw them doing it last night. So obviously she's the daddy."

"Wait, back up," Mercedes insisted, about to burst with this even better development. "You saw Rachel and Quinn _doing it _last night?"

Santana rolled her eyes; as amusing as this was, she had to put up at least a token defense for her friend. "We didn't see them screwing or anything. They were just on a date."

Tina's eyes were wide. "Really?"

"But they hate each other," Mercedes reminded them all. "Like gale force a thousand hate."

Brittany nodded sagely. "It's the purple line." When everyone looked blank, she added, "Fine, don't believe me, but I still say Rachel Manhands is the baby-daddy."

"You do know that's not actually her name right?" Kurt asked condescendingly. "Her name's Rachel Berry."

"Nuh-uh, why else would we call her Manhands for short?"

"Because she's a tranny," Santana explained before getting back on topic. "So is Q really . . ."

She was cut off by Kurt, "Santana, that's extremely offensive."

"Oh please, you're just offended because you want her to be your boyfriend!"

Kurt went pale. "That's even more offensive!"

"So who _is_ the Daddy?" Mercedes directed her question to Puck.

He shrugged, looking uncomfortable for a second, but before he could answer Rachel breezed into the room.

"Hello, everyone. I'm glad you are all here for my good news."

Mike was the only one who perked up at her entrance. "What good news?"

"I would like to inform you all that I am hereby returning to Glee club. It wasn't an easy decision to make but I feel, as I'm sure all of you do as well, that it is the best one for certain concerned members – meaning _all_ of you, obviously – now . . ."

Her news was met with a stunned silence – which was to be expected, except she didn't seem to be the cause of it.

"I must say I was expecting a little more of a reaction."

"Sorry," Kurt shook his head, not looking in the least bit. "You've caught us at a monumental time. Glee club has just been rocked with its first big scandal."

"What is it?"

"Quinn's pregnant," Mercedes filled in, grinning as much as Kurt.

"And you're the Daddy," Brittany said. "Don't deny it, Santana and I know."

"I . . . what?"

She didn't know what to process first, the fact that Quinn's news was out or Brittany's ridiculous accusation. Obviously Quinn came first.

"Don't be silly, of course Quinn isn't pregnant. How could she be? She's president of the Celibacy Club."

"And I was a cub scout until I was twelve," Puck said. "And guess what? I broke all the club rules."

"Yes, but that's you. Quinn isn't like that."

"Look at the facts, Rachel," Kurt said. "She's been getting sick a lot, she has major mood swings, she's putting on weight . . ."

"She is not putting on weight!"

"Well she will be soon," Santana said and everyone else laughed.

"How can you be a part of this . . . of this . . . gossip-mongering?" Rachel asked her. "Aren't you supposed to be her friend?"

"Not as good a friend as you apparently."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Brittany pointed at her, "Baby-daddy."

"Stop saying that! I am not . . . that's preposterous. How could I even . . .?"

"It's okay, Rachel. If you want to be a transvestite, we won't judge you for it," Brittany said solemnly. "But pretending the baby isn't yours? That's really low."

"Oh my God!" Rachel stood there slack-jawed until Puck's smirk caught the corner of her eye. She turned to him, pointing. "You know! Put an end to this right now!"

He held his hands out, "What am I supposed to know?"

She turned angrily back to the rest of them. "There is no baby, and if there was the rest of you aren't as stupid as Brittany to believe that I could possibly be . . ."

She didn't even know the mistake she had made until Santana was off of her stool and in her face.

"What did you just call her?"

"I . . . I . . ." Rachel looked around at the others but everyone who might have, possibly, on a benevolent day, come to her aid was much too scared of Santana to get involved. "I wasn't calling _Brittany_ stupid, just her accusation."

"Didn't sound like it to me."

"I assure you . . ." She tried to back up a step to get out of the Santana Lopez danger zone but the girl stayed with her.

"Screw your assurance. What makes you so sure Q isn't pregnant anyway? You think you have one little date and suddenly you know everything about her?"

Rachel gasped, "We haven't been on a date."

"Oh, right, I forgot. It wasn't a date; you just want to be her _friend_."

Rachel shook her head, desperately trying to think of what Quinn would want her to say. "We're not exactly friends."

"No, Stubbles, you're not. You're _nothing_ to her. She was just _using_ you last night."

She should have let it go, Santana didn't know what she was talking about and Rachel didn't even know how she knew about last night, but she should have let her think what she wanted.

The comment hurt though, a lot, and instinct overrode commonsense.

"No, she _wasn't_! We had a wonderful time. You're just jealous because she chose to spend an evening with me instead of you!"

"Oh yeah, are you sure about that?"

Rachel kept her head high. "Yes!"

"So she wasn't just trying to seduce you into coming back to Glee because you coming back to Glee means her _boyfriend_ can get a scholarship? A scholarship he's obviously going to need now that he went and knocked Quinn up?"

Rachel's mouth dropped open but the sudden cold feeling gripping her chest still made it difficult to do anything but breathe shallowly. Santana's sneering face was growing blurry and her voice sounded muffled, like she was speaking through a blanket, but Rachel could still hear her hammering in the final nail.

"Yeah, all falling into place now, isn't it, Treasure Trail?"

It was.

Rachel's mouth snapped shut with an angry click of her teeth and then she turned and ran from the Choir room.

* * *

><p>Quinn was eating her lunch in a Math classroom with Finn, completely unaware of what was happening half a school away in the Choir room.<p>

She sat across the desk from him as he filled in the paper work for some of the music scholarships Miss Pillsbury had suggested. It was probably a little early for this kind of thing, they were still only sophomores after all, but he was all fired up and enthusiastic about it and it was kind of cute how much effort he was putting in for her and the baby.

"Guitar doesn't have an 'e' on the end," she pointed out absently as she took a bite of her lettuce and tomato sandwich.

"Oh, right." He reached for the white-out for the eighth time. "So how did you convince Rachel to come back?"

It wasn't the first time he'd asked. She was starting to get suspicious of his suspiciousness.

"I told you, I just asked her."

"So you weren't, like, mean to her or anything?"

"No, I was the opposite of mean. We went bowling, we had fun, and then I asked her. She was more than happy to say yes."

"Why though?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and set her sandwich down. It wasn't helping; she wanted a bacon double cheeseburger!

"Does it matter? I didn't threaten her. I didn't force her to agree. She made up her own mind. Can't we just count ourselves lucky?"

"I guess."

"Musical is 'cal' not 'cel'."

"Damn!" Finn reached for the white-out again.

Quinn dipped her head so that her nose landed in the cashmere scarf and breathed in slowly. It only half helped, as in it soothed the nausea and the annoyance she was feeling, but instantly brought back the feeling of Rachel's soft lips on her ear and her eyes slipped closed at the memory.

She couldn't believe that had happened! Talk about crossing a line. She should have been angrier, but instead she'd just let Berry get away with it. She'd even told her it was okay.

It _wasn't _okay!

Still, she didn't lift her face from the scarf, letting the memory churn through her insides until Finn's voice startled her.

"Okay, I'm done."

She looked up to see him signing his name at the bottom of the last application.

If it was her she wouldn't have tried to fill in three applications in a single lunch hour. She'd have taken them home and spent at least a week reading through each and every question, drafting out each answer before filling them in, but she was glad Finn had gotten them out of the way so quickly. It meant she could stop thinking about them and what she'd had to do to make them a viable option.

"Okay, take them to Miss Pillsbury sometime this afternoon so she can send them off."

Finn nodded and then looked at her discarded sandwich. "Are you finishing that?"

She kept her eye roll on the inside.

'_No, that's fine, Finn, take your pregnant girlfriend's lunch.'_

It wasn't like she really wanted it though so, despite her irritation, she pushed the sandwich towards him.

_Rachel would never do that._

'_I know.'_

* * *

><p>Lunch hadn't quite ended, the bell was yet to ring, so the halls were still pretty full of students hanging out and going to their lockers. Quinn paid them no mind as she walked through heading for her fifth period class, books held securely in her arms and her nose buried in the scarf she'd pulled up over her chin. Figgins hadn't turned the heat on yet so the air was just cool enough to let her get away with it without comment.<p>

She was almost at the classroom door when she heard her name shouted. She turned automatically even though she recognized the voice as Berry's. She sounded angry.

"What?"

Rachel marched up to her. "I should slap you!"

Quinn was completely confused but it didn't stop her eyes from narrowing dangerously. "Try it, see what it gets you."

"How dare you use me like that?"

"Use you like what, Stubbles?"

The nickname came easy; after all they were in the middle of the hall surrounded by gawping kids.

Rachel fumed quietly for a second and then stormed into the classroom Quinn had been heading for anyway. Quinn followed her, purely out of curiosity. Thankfully it was still empty.

"What is your problem?"

"I think I should be asking you that! But before I do, and goodness knows why I feel the need to forewarn you right now, but you should know that everyone in Glee knows."

"Knows what?"

"That you're pregnant."

Quinn looked around even though she knew they were alone. "You told them!" she hissed. "You little . . ."

"Of course I didn't! I walked in on a conversation about it in the Choir room."

"Oh God." She sank down into the nearest chair. "What were they saying?"

"Primarily? That I am the father of your unborn child."

"What the fuck?"

Despite Quinn's angry outburst, Berry just shook her head mildly.

"My thoughts exactly. It came from Brittany apparently, but even though the others know it's ludicrous, my insulting Brittany for making such a statement angered Santana and now no one is going to disagree with her."

Quinn buried her head in her hands, "You insulted Brittany?"

"I didn't mean to, I was just shocked. Santana took offense however."

Quinn looked up. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

"No I'm not okay and yes she hurt me. How could you do that? I know we're not really friends but I've been nothing but nice to you! I've done all I can to support you and you . . . you . . ."

"What did I do?"

"Don't play stupid!" Quinn bristled but Rachel hadn't finished. "You used me to get Finn a scholarship! That's why you really wanted me to come back to Glee, isn't it? Not because you missed me or because you wanted to be friends. It was all about Finn."

Quinn looked down, fists balling on top of the desk and only afterwards realized it had blown her chance to lie. She had no choice but to come clean and hope that Rachel understood.

She looked the girl in the eye. "Yes."

"How could you do that?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Quinn stood up again. "I needed something; you were my only way of getting it. This isn't about you, Rachel, it's about my baby. I'm sorry if you think . . .!"

"You're not sorry! Don't even pretend like you care!"

"You're right, I _don't_ care." She shouldn't care. "You'd have come back to Glee eventually, and you know it. So I made it happen a little sooner. What's the big deal? You had a good time last night didn't you? You got something out of it too."

Rachel's voice was loud and shaky. "That's not the point!"

"Then what is the point?"

"You could have been honest. You could have just _asked_ me! Instead of leading me on, making me think we were friends or . . . or _something_!"

"Oh and if I'd come to you and said 'hey, Rachel, I need you to quit the musical and come back to Glee so my boyfriend' _– _who you were _so_ jealous of Friday night – 'can get a scholarship' you'd have done it?"

"Yes!" A tear slipped down Rachel's cheek. "If _you'd _asked me I would have done it!"

A few beats of silence passed. Quinn felt the familiar sting in her own eyes as she heard the sincerity in Rachel's voice.

"Really?" she asked softly, still finding it hard to believe.

Why would anyone do that for her? Why would _Rachel _do that for her? Why was this annoying, unpopular, outcast of a girl suddenly the answer to all her problems? And more importantly, why was Quinn suddenly okay with that?

She took a step forward, planning to – needing to – give her another hug. "Thank you."

Rachel stepped back, holding a hand up. "No. If you'd asked me _before _I would have. If you'd been honest about your intentions on our . . . night out, I _would_ have."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that because my promise was made under false pretenses I no longer feel it necessary to honor it."

"You're not coming back?"

Rachel's lips were pressed in a thin line as she gave a tight nod and Quinn's anger took over and when that happened, with the yelling the plotting came easy.

"Fine! But you know what? _Y__ou're_ losing out _too_. If you just come back and play along with this we can at least be friends for a few weeks! I can tell Santana I fed you more bullshit and you believed it. She won't question us spending time together then because she knows I'm just being nice so that you'll do what I want. It'll even give us a free pass for more dates, uh, you know, friend-dates like last night, because Santana already knows I go all out to get what I want, and I seem to remember you drunkenly slurring something about dinner and a movie." She gave her a quick smile. "So it'll be fun, right? _But_ it'll only work if you come back to Glee, Rachel, so you _have _to come back."

Why was Rachel just staring at her like she'd grown a second nose on her face?

"What? It's perfect. Win-win."

"No, Quinn, only you win! You get exactly what you want and I get to look like a simpering idiot to everyone else in Glee. I can't believe you expect me to give you my blessing to _use_ me. You may rule over everyone else in this school but I am not laying myself across a muddy puddle just so you won't get your feet dirty."

"What?"

"You're not using me again!" Rachel yelled. "With or without me having prior knowledge of your intentions."

"That's not what I'm doing, Berry!"

"Sorry, I forgot about the sympathy dates you offered in return for my compliance. You can keep them, Quinn. I don't want a sympathy date, or a friend date or any kind of fake date with you."

"Well, it's not like I can take you on a _real_ date is it?" she fumed. "I think my boyfriend might disapprove."

"Then I guess you were _lying again_ a minute ago because you clearly are not prepared to go _all out _to get what you want. Stop gaping at me, Quinn, that wasn't me making a demand in exchange for the use of my talent; I was merely making a point. And even if you did ask, I wouldn't accept. And I'm not coming back to Glee so you had better go and offer your fake friendship to April Rhodes in the hope that she sticks around and doesn't die of old age before Finn gets his scholarship approved."

Spinning on her heel, Rachel – with perfect timing as usual – stormed from the room just as the other students started to filter in.

Oblivious to the fact she was standing in the way, Quinn stared after with her hands out in supplication. "What the hell just happened?"

_You got your butt handed to you by Rachel Berry._

'_Why? My plan is perfect. We get to spend time together, isn't that what she wants? She was kissing my ear just a few hours ago; she can't really be over me yet, can she? I practically asked her out, doesn't that count for anything?'_

_You might have told her it would all be a lie to get what you want._

'_No, I said it would _look_ like a lie to get what I want.'_

_Maybe she missed that part._

"Shit!"

"Miss Fabray!" She jumped at the sound of the teacher's voice; she'd completely forgotten where she was. "As you seem to want to stand up the entire lesson you may go and stand in the corner and think about why the classroom is not an appropriate place for foul language."

"Are you kidding? We're in _high school!_"

The teacher just pointed to where he wanted her. Barely restrained chuckles drowned out her embarrassed huff as she made her way over to the far wall.

She couldn't believe she'd just been sent to the naughty corner! She couldn't believe she'd been sent to the naughty corner because she'd been spacing out over why Rachel-_freaking-_Berry wouldn't go on a date with her.

* * *

><p>As soon as Quinn saw Santana at her locker after school she charged over, catching her friend unawares and pushing her into the metal wall.<p>

"Hey!" Santana swung around; fists already up, until she saw who it was. She settled back and crossed her arms instead. "Sure you should be rough-housing in your condition, Q?"

"What did you say to Berry?"

"She had it coming."

"You had no right to tell her what I told you!"

"What does it matter if you broke her little heart or me? Result's the same, right?"

"You knew we had to wait until she had no choice but Glee. Now she's not going to come back."

"Good!"

Quinn shoved her again.

Santana bounced off of the lockers. "Seriously bitch, you do that again I'm not gonna care how many babies you're cooking in there!"

"You ruined everything!"

"Oh boo hoo! She insulted Brittany – your _friend._ Stubbles had it coming. She's lucky I didn't knock her teeth down her throat."

Quinn took a step back, rubbing a hand over her forehead. Santana was right, she didn't let anyone insult Brittany either and she'd been pissed when Berry had mentioned it, but Santana had messed _everything_ up!

"I need Rachel back in Glee and that's never going to happen now."

"Sure it is," Santana smirked. "She was seriously defending you earlier, and not just in a friendly way. Give her a flash of your spanks tonight and she'll be back in Glee before sun up."

Quinn went hot all over at the idea. "Don't be so . . ." She had to swallow hard to get the words out. "That's disgusting!"

"Not gonna find me disagreeing, but if you want what you want . . ." Santana walked off without waiting for a reply.

Quinn slammed her hand against the lockers.

* * *

><p>Rachel wasn't in Glee that afternoon.<p>

Finn looked crestfallen that their plan had fallen through. Quinn just felt . . . something worse.

She lasted for ten minutes of the not-so-subtle glances and muted whispers – she caught the word baby a few times but it was hearing Rachel's name more than once that pushed her over the edge – before she stood up and walked out.

Mr. Schue gave her a soft nod to let her know it was okay. Like she even cared.

She waited by her car for what felt like ages. The weatherman had been right and the temperature had dropped a good five degrees since that morning. She was hoping that Rachel's usual forgiving nature had overcome her anger through the course of the afternoon but the girl didn't show, not even to demand her scarf back before walking home.

When she started shivering, Quinn waited a further ten minutes _inside_ her car before giving up and going home too.

* * *

><p>She slept with the scarf still wound around her that night, hoping it would stop her from feeling sick in the morning, and then awoke again at five am, from a dream of Rachel's arms wrapped securely around her neck, hugging her close.<p>

As she slipped slowly into wakefulness the warmth and safety of the dream drifted away, leaving her terrified of the demons running amok in her unconscious mind.

Her plan had worked, she didn't feel sick – but she didn't dare go back to sleep either.


	22. I Just Can't Get No Relief

****Hi, there. Thanks for all the reviews, you guys rock, I can't keep up with them (this is not a criticism!) . Seriously, thanks to everyone who's reading, reviewing and reccing this story, you're all awesome :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-One:<strong>

**I Just Can't Get No Relief.**

Rachel arrived extra early for American Lit. on Thursday morning and asked every student that came through the door if they would switch seats with her.

Nobody would; they probably liked the fact that she found sitting next to Quinn so torturous.

When the girl in question showed up, taking her place without even a glance in her direction, Rachel sighed and reluctantly followed her to the desk.

She'd spent the night before more upset than angry and had cried herself to sleep over being stupid enough to let her guard down with Quinn Fabray; for worse than that even, for daring to contemplate that she was someone Rachel could give her heart to. Somewhere in the past week, and largely due to Quinn's own shifting attitude towards her, Rachel had gone from cautiously companionable to optimistically expectant in terms of how she approached their budding friendship and that had obviously been a mistake.

One that Quinn was completely to blame for . . . and Rachel really should have seen coming.

Of course Quinn had been using her all this time. For her umbrella, her fabric softener, for her sympathy and her pathetic willingness to please the girl who had made her school life a misery for years. And now for her talent.

She'd let herself believe that Quinn _liked_ her, _really_ liked her, even if the cheerleader would never be prepared to admit it out loud or take it any further than holding her hand in secret.

But Quinn had only ever been leading her onto get what she wanted.

Sitting beside her now, Rachel felt the pain recede as her anger reared again.

How _dare _she manipulate her feelings so callously like that!

_And _she was still wearing her scarf!

Mr. Laxforth was halfway through the day's chapter when the blonde's notebook was edged closer.

_Did you calm down yet?_

Rachel ignored her and heard a heavy sigh as Quinn went back to taking notes.

Another five minutes passed before the notebook was in her line of sight again.

_You're seriously over-reacting about this._

Rachel huffed in annoyance. When she didn't receive a reply, Quinn made a similar noise.

The next time she saw the notepad, a longer message was scrawled at the bottom of a page full of Quinn's habitually meticulous note-taking.

_OMG, would you just get over it? I didn't kill your puppy! I just took you on a date, for F's sake. The date you were begging me for Fri night! You should be thanking me for what I did! After all, it's not like anyone else is willing to spend time with you without there being something in it for them too, so what did I do that was so bad?_

Hands literally shaking with fury, Rachel had no idea how she managed to tear the top sheet from the pad before Quinn could stop her. Maybe it was the shock factor. Whatever it was, she managed to rip the paper into sixteen roughly torn pieces and throw them in the air before Quinn reacted with more than a surprised widening of her eyes.

"You freaking midget bitch!" she shouted, trying to catch the tiny pieces as they rained down on her.

"What's going on back there?" Mr. Laxforth had risen from his seat and was already striding down the aisle towards them.

Everyone else had turned in their seats to look at their desk too.

Quinn didn't seem to notice as she glared hatred at Rachel.

Rachel noticed but didn't care as she grinned smugly back. "How do you like it?"

"You're _dead_, Manhands!"

"And _you're_ over-rated!" Rachel shouted back, drawing a collective gasp from the audience.

"Figgins' office now, both of you! And detention after school."

"You can't give me detention. I have Cheerios."

"Not today you don't. Now GO!"

* * *

><p>Figgins let them off with a warning, but - despite lengthy protests from both girls - insisted they attend the detention.<p>

* * *

><p>As luck would have it, and probably for the first time in McKinley history, only two students received detention that day.<p>

Rachel arrived first and was both gratified and, perversely, upset when Quinn took the furthest seat from her there was. She merely grunted her displeasure though and went back to reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

Quinn heard her and gave a dark chuckle as she fished her own paperback copy from her bag and did the same.

The hour long detention was twenty minutes old when the overseer stood from grading French essays.

"I have to go to my office for five minutes. I trust you to behave in my absence but remember I can see and hear this room from there."

"She's here because she threatened my life and you're going to leave us alone?" Rachel couldn't believe it.

"Oui."

As soon as the door closed behind her, Quinn called over, "Scared of me, Stubbles?"

"No. I just find it terribly bad teacher practice."

"Want me to make you scared of me?"

Rachel shook her head wearily, pretending to go back to her book.

"What am I saying? You'd probably get off on me touching you, even with my fist."

Rachel turned the page, even though she hadn't read more than the first paragraph of the previous one.

"It certainly didn't slow you down Friday night."

She finally cracked, "I only have your word that I even kissed you Friday night and now that I know exactly how much your word means, for all I know you made it up! You probably thought you could hold it over me if taking me bowling didn't get you what you wanted. Well, do you want to know something? It won't work. I'll stand up at the invitational tomorrow night in front of everyone and tell them that I was stupid enough to kiss you before I let you use that against me too."

Quinn was seething. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Why does that make you so angry? It's not like you kissed me back!"

"I . . . I know! But everyone in Glee already thinks we're an item now or something thanks to you. If you tell them that, they're either going to consider it confirmation or they're going to ask why you're still alive."

"Why _am_ I still alive? You punched me the first time, why not the second?"

"I told you why!"

"Yes, but I no longer have cause to believe anything you said Tuesday night so I'd like the real answer."

"Go to hell!"

"I'm Jewish, we don't believe in hell."

"I'll make your life a living hell, can you believe in that?"

"Considering you've been doing that for three years, yes I can believe it. I simply don't care anymore. And, to go back a few retorts, if I may, they don't think that _thanks to me_. You took _me_ on a date, _you_ told Santana about it . . ."

"It wasn't a date!"

"Yes it was!" Rachel screamed across the room.

Quinn fell silent for a moment, glaring, breathing heavily. "Yeah, well it was the last one you'll ever get with me."

Rachel threw her hands up, Huckleberry Finn flapping around her thumb. "Good! You're a lousy date anyway!"

"I am not!"

She wasn't. She'd even walked Rachel to the front door at the end of the night. It had seemed a little strange at the time but had only fanned the flames of her crush.

"You are, because I'm pretty sure you aren't supposed to have an ulterior motive when you ask someone out on one!"

"Oh God, are you still on that?"

Rachel paused, some of the wind going out of her sails. "Isn't that what we're arguing about?"

Quinn looked the same. "Uh, yeah . . . I'm just getting sick of hearing your voice!"

"Then you'll be extremely pleased to know that I have no desire to speak to you ever again." She went back to the book.

"I was . . . We were desperate, Berry," Quinn muttered after a minute or so had passed. "It wasn't personal."

"That's where you and I differ, because for me it was entirely personal."

"That's not my problem."

"I never suggested it was. However, the way I feel now _is_ your fault, so I'd appreciate it if you could just leave me alone in the future."

"What if I don't want to?"

The French teacher came back before she could formulate a response to that so she took the opportunity to not have to.

When detention was over, Quinn was up and out of her chair immediately. Rachel stayed seated but held up a large plain white envelope she'd retrieved from her locker after her last class.

On the front it said: **Health Science – From Four to Forty Weeks.**

Quinn's step faltered a desk away as she read it but then, without breaking stride again or looking at her as she passed; she took the envelope and left the room.

* * *

><p>Friday lunch time Rachel found a note in her locker.<p>

_Thank you. x_

* * *

><p>She was in the bathroom when April Rhodes came in, drunkenly slurring the lyrics to 'Last Name'.<p>

She waited until her middle-aged replacement had left before exiting her stall and washing her hands, taking her time so she wouldn't follow her straight out.

She'd opened the main door, but only by a sliver when she heard Mr. Schuester talking to the ancient interloper, and stopped to eavesdrop on what sounded like the Spanish teacher giving his high school crush her marching orders.

That's how she knew they needed an understudy.

She hadn't forgiven Quinn, she would never forgive her, but the note in her locker had both mitigated some of the pain and dulled the edge of her anger.

So ten minutes later she found herself standing in front of a hostile Glee club, trying to offer her help.

"I was wrong to quit Glee. We're a team; and I know it's mostly one-sided, but regardless, I consider you my friends and I couldn't live with myself if I let you down when you needed me the most."

She made the mistake of catching Quinn's eye on the last sentence. Naturally Quinn used it to put her down in front of everyone, pointing out that she would be useless in the performance because she didn't know the choreography.

Finn came to her defense, earning a glare from his girlfriend.

Rachel just rolled her eyes and went to change into her costume.


	23. Remember Those Walls I Built?

****Thanks for the reviews :) Sorry for the delay. Blame my birthday and Easter all happening in the same week. Anyway, here's the next chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Two<strong>

**Remember Those Walls I Built? **

On Monday morning there was another note in her locker, exactly the same as before, but that was the last communication she had with Quinn – they kept to themselves in American Lit, no words exchanged, no notes passed and kept their sidelong glances whenever they passed between classes to a minimum – until lunch time on Wednesday when she confronted the cheerleader for not showing up in Glee for the past two days.

"You went out of your way to get me to come back and then you just quit?"

"I haven't quit. I just need a break from you."

"Why?"

"Since when do I need a reason to not spend time near you, Berry? Now get away from my locker."

"No, you have to come back. The boys were really good and we need you to help us win. We're doing a mash-up of Walking On Sunshine and Halo and it's going to be really fun, Quinn. Please come back and help us be great."

Quinn looked at her from the corner of her eye and lowered her voice to a rough whisper. "They're talking about us!"

"You're paranoid."

"I'm really not."

"Okay, so say they are? How is you leaving the second I return quelling any rumors?"

Quinn looked down for a beat and then slammed her locker door and walked away.

That afternoon she was back in Glee.

* * *

><p>The only upside to the vitamin D debacle was that all of the Glee clubbers were feeling shame-faced and not really making eye contact with each other for a few days – well, with the exception of Puck who didn't care – so the renewed animosity between Rachel and Quinn just seemed normal to everyone else even if it felt awkward to the two of them.<p>

It only became noticeable the following Tuesday after another completely silent American Lit. class.

A rumor began circling – outside of Glee club – that Rachel Berry had offered sexual favors to some hockey players in exchange for a slushie hit on Quinn Fabray.

Despite the fact that no slushie was ever thrown at Quinn and that Rachel had vehemently denied all knowledge of it, the following day she was attacked by two lime-flavored, ice-based projectiles. They were thrown simultaneously by Quinn and Santana and the cheerleaders' laughter followed her down the hall and into the nearest bathroom.

Rachel was just trying to dry her hastily washed hair with paper towels when Kurt, Mercedes, Tina and Artie came in behind her.

She was instantly suspicious, "What do you all want?"

"Team-Berry," Artie said, like it was some kind of sensible explanation.

"I don't understand."

"Obviously you and Quinn have suffered a terrible yet inevitable break up," Kurt began.

Rachel rolled her eyes and turned back to the mirrors. "You can't break up if you were never together to start with."

"Whatever," Mercedes shrugged. "You two fighting has split Glee club down the middle. It's cheerleaders and jocks versus _us_ again."

"That's ridiculous."

"Really?" Artie asked. "When Quinn's pissed she seems to like to spread it around by preying on the weakest. We _are _the weakest and we're right there in her face every afternoon."

"And Puck and Santana have never even needed that much reason to torment us," Kurt remind her. "Now it's like they're on a mission."

"It's been one day! And I don't see any of you wiping slushie from your faces."

"They got me this morning," Mercedes said angrily. "I was hardly in the door."

"Santana . . . _Santana! . . ._tossed me in a dumpster while I was walking to third period," Kurt sniffed.

"And we're scared i-it's going to get w-w-worse."

"For you?" Rachel clarified.

"For all of us . . . but mostly us, yes," Kurt said smoothly. "But we named the team after you."

"Team-Berry?" Rachel laughed because the whole thing was ludicrous and yet the name did have a certain fantastic ring to it. "Okay, and what does it involve."

"M-mostly just s-s-sticking together."

"Strength in numbers, you know?" Mercedes agreed. "We'll just hang out at lunch and in the halls together so if one of us sees a Big Quench coming we can sound the alarm."

Rachel agreed for only two reasons – genuine friendships might grow out of a period of forced togetherness _and _it would really aggravate Quinn to see her surrounded by friends.

"Okay, I'm in. Can we get team t-shirts?"

"Only if we change the name," Kurt compromised.

Rachel sighed. She'd expected an answer just like that.

"So, Tina, Artie and I all have Chemistry now. How about you two?"

"French," Kurt said.

Mercedes had, "Home Ec."

"Well, they're in the same wing and if we leave now we can walk you both over there and still be back to the Chem lab before the period starts."

Everyone agreed with her – which was a nice change of pace – and Kurt strode ahead to open the door. When it didn't immediately swing open he pulled the handle harder.

Mercedes bumped him out of the way. "Here, let me try."

From the muffled sound of Santana's cackling Rachel knew it would be a fruitless effort.

"They locked us in?" Artie sounded like he couldn't believe it.

Having once been locked out on the roof for almost an entire night by Quinn and her henchwomen, she could only too well believe it.

"We're all g-going t-to be late for class!"

"I'd prepare yourselves to be late for dinner too," she told them, "and missing whatever curfews you might have."

"Oh, hell no!" Mercedes pulled on the door handle even harder but of course it didn't budge.

Principal Figgins was irrationally paranoid that a violent student riot could break out at any moment and last year he'd deemed that the ability to lock down sections of the school like a prison was a necessary financial outlay. Now every door could be locked from the inside and the outside if you had the means to do so. Rachel didn't know how the head Cheerio and her sidekick had procured the Janitor's master key once again, but evidently they had.

The five of them stood around dejected for a few minutes.

"We're on the ground floor," Kurt remembered. "We can just climb through the window."

"I won't fit through that tiny thing," Mercedes said.

"And I can't wheel up walls."

"Only o-o-one of us has to g-go through the window and find a t-teacher."

They all turned to her and as the smallest person there, Rachel couldn't really argue.

* * *

><p>Once they were all finally out of the bathroom things only escalated.<p>

Kurt was slushied by Puck on the way to fifth period while Tina caught a slushie facial actually _in _fifth period.

Mercedes' locker had been glued shut. Rachel found that the entire contents of hers had been stolen – text books, class work and personal items – with only a note left in their place.

_You'll find your garbage where it belongs. x_

A kiss? She'd actually added a _kiss_!

Incensed to a level she could never remember being before, Rachel stormed down the corridors, finding her property outside the cafeteria in the third trash can she checked. Unsurprisingly it was already underneath leaking drink cups and cans and sticky food containers. What _was_ a little surprising was that everything had been placed in a thick clear plastic bag before being dumped. Had it just been easier to transport it that way or had the plastic protection been intentional? She'd probably never know and it was still _so gross_ having to reach in there and pull the slimy bag out.

Rachel had assumed Artie was the only one of them who escaped the afternoon's bullying, until Kurt received a text in the sixth period class they shared.

"Artie's in a dumpster," he whispered. They didn't normally sit together, but today was different.

"What?"

Kurt showed her the text. Puck and Matt had lifted him in between periods, chair and all.

"We have to go and get him out!"

Kurt held his hands up in a frustrated gesture. "And how do you suggest we do that? Between us we could barely lift just his chair out."

He had a point even if it was slightly exaggerated. Making up her mind, Rachel stood up and approached the only other Glee member that shared this particular class with them.

The teacher turned from the board to glare at her but she held up a hand before he could speak.

"I'm extremely sorry for interrupting your lesson, Mr. Matthews, but this is an emergency. Finn, Artie is, at this very moment, languishing in a dumpster. We need you to help us save him."

To his credit, Finn didn't even hesitate. "We'll be right back, Mr. Matthews."

The three of them hurried from the room before the teacher could stop them.

* * *

><p>"How could you help them?" Quinn hissed as she dragged her boyfriend by the arm to the Choir room.<p>

"How could you make them put Artie in a dumpster?" he shot back. "What's he ever done to you?"

He succeeded in making her feel guilty, but it didn't last long. "I didn't make Puck and Matt do anything. They acted on their own."

"Oh please, Quinn, you are the only person at this school who has enough pull to make the football players _and_ the cheerleaders do what you want."

That was true.

"If it was just Artie I might believe they'd acted alone, but everyone's being targeted. I've been expecting my own slushie facial all day!"

"Yeah, well if you help Manhands out again, you might just get one."

"What is wrong with you? Is it, like, baby hormones making you crazy or something? If I get you some peach ice cream will you chill out?"

She made a _grrr _sound in her throat. He just didn't understand _anything_!

"Just get inside."

She held the door open for him, but only because she'd spotted what was coming down the corridor behind them. Once he was out of the way she acted, her timing perfect as she slammed the door closed.

She laughed as she heard the thud of Berry walking into it.

* * *

><p>Rachel still held the stinging tip of her nose in one hand as she listened to Mr. Schuester give them that week's assignment. Luckily it hadn't started bleeding but she was sure it was swelling to twice its normal size, and really, even she knew it was large enough already.<p>

"So I want you to split up into boys and girls again but this time you're to pick a singer or band, of your gender, and each of you choose one song from that artist's back catalogue to sing as a solo."

"What are you hoping to achieve from this lesson, Mr. Schue?"

Oh Barbra, was her voice sounding nasal all of a sudden. If her singing ability was compromised in any way because of this she was going to hunt Quinn down and . . . and . . . do _something _the blonde wouldn't appreciate, that was for sure.

"I want to assess your ranges and learn what you're all most comfortable with. Limiting you to one artist will provide a better oversight of that."

"Give us an example," Puck asked.

"Well, okay, say you boys chose . . . Bon Jovi again. If one of you decided to sing _Keep the Faith_ and someone else picked _Always _I'd know what kind of pacing and lyrical dexterity you feel most at home with. This is mostly just an exercise in learning your current aptitudes but I also want you to pick songs that mean something to you, that speak to you, because that way you'll really feel it when you're singing and that's when your talent will shine. Sectionals will be here before we know it and . . ."

Rachel tuned him out as she started coming up with a list of female singers that would best showcase her range and talent. Obviously one name rose to the top.

"Okay, get into your groups."

As soon as all the girls were sat together, she began. "Okay, I think it's obvious to all of us that Celine Dion should be our female artist of choice. Her vocal range alone . . ."

"She sings mostly love ballads and that's not what we're supposed to be doing," Quinn said, her voice withering.

"Yeah, we need someone who mixes it up a little," Santana agreed. "Or else we're all going to sound exactly the same."

Rachel deflated, annoyed that they had a point. "Okay, then I think we should choose . . ."

"Nobody cares what you think, Manhands."

She glared at Quinn before looking from Mercedes to Tina for support. "What do you ladies think?"

"Well, I'd suggest Aretha but you white girls couldn't cut it."

Rachel watched Quinn bristle. "Really? Do you really want me to embarrass you by performing Aretha Franklin better than you?"

"Oh, I'd like to see you . . ."

"What about K-katy P-p-perry?"

"W-w-what about her?"

"Enough," Rachel snapped when Tina shrank in on herself at Santana's mocking. "This is Glee club and whatever animosity may lie between us in other areas of our lives, it should stay at the door of this room."

She was surprised and yet not when Quinn spoke up. "Treasure Trail is right. Glee is about expressing ourselves musically, not through insults. But . . ." She glared right at Rachel. " . . . you better be sure that I intend to express myself all _over_ you when I sing my solo."

Santana was laughing even before Brittany said, "That sounded _really_ dirty."

Quinn went red and Rachel ducked her head to hide her smirk.

"It came out wrong. Just shut up, Britt, and pick a singer."

"How can I shut up and pick a singer?"

"Just do it."

"Wait, why does Brittany get to choose?" Mercedes asked, annoyed.

"Because I said so."

Brittany had been staring intently at the floor but now she looked up with determination. "Elton John!"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "A female singer!"

"Watch your tone, Stubbles!" Santana snapped.

"Oh, then Kelly Clarkson."

"Seriously?" Mercedes asked.

Rachel noticed that not only her, but Santana and Quinn were also giving Brittany disappointed looks.

"Yeah, she's like America's idol. That makes her awesome, right?"

"Seriously?" Mercedes asked again.

"Yeah, why not? She's really hot."

"Isn't there _anyone _else you'd rather sing?" Santana asked.

"No, and Quinn said _I _got to pick."

There was a collective sigh, but then Rachel said, "Kelly Clarkson it is, then. Unfortunately I'm not familiar with much of her work. I have a feeling I'm going to be spending most of this evening on iTunes."

Quinn nodded, "Me too."

Their eyes met in mutual commiseration and Rachel almost smiled. She was pretty sure that Quinn almost did too.

They didn't though.

* * *

><p>Rachel was the first one to start a dialogue the following morning in American Lit.<p>

_I get why you are picking on me, actually I don't, but then you've never needed a reason before. But why bring everyone else into it?_

For a moment it looked as though Quinn wasn't going to respond, but then she tapped her pen on the desk a few times before sighing and giving in.

_I overheard Mercedes and Kurt talking a few days ago, about making you their scapegoat_

Quinn crossed the last word out and wrote in _sheild _instead and then with a frustrated shake of her head drew a line through that too and wrote _safe-goat! _

Rachel's lips quirked in a confused but amused expression as she wrote: _I don't understand._

_Do you seriously believe they only started getting slushied and thrown in dumpsters yesterday? You're an idiot. They thought that hanging out with you now would keep them safe._

_I know, safety in numbers, not that it's working._

_No, not safety in numbers! They think they're safe because we're dating or something. They think if they pretend to be your friends that they'll stop getting bullied._

_But we're not dating!_

_I'm pretty sure I'm already aware of that._

_But it has intensified for them since you declared war on me._

_Maybe I just don't like their attitudes._

Rachel actually smiled at that. She thought she'd hidden it pretty well until she saw the smiley drawn on Quinn's notepad. The blonde quickly scribbled it out though.

_You know they're not your friends. They're just using you._

_Something I'm used to, thanks to you. And at least they're on my side._

_Whatever._

Rachel went back to not concentrating on the lesson. It was becoming a habit. She was probably going to fail American Literature at this rate.

_Anyway YOU declared war on me._

_I did no such thing._

_You tried to get me slushied, Berry._

Rachel laughed under her breath at the absurdity of it.

_You don't honestly believe that I offered David Karofsky my body in exchange for that? If I wanted you slushied, I'd do it myself._

_Sure you would. You'd never have the guts!_

_We'll see._

_I'm trembling._

* * *

><p>Five minutes into the lunch period Quinn <em>was<em> trembling, or shivering, as a slushie dripped down her face. She was grateful that Rachel had at least given her enough time to clean up before class started again, and that she'd bought raspberry flavor. It was the only one that didn't make her nauseous. In fact, after Rachel's neck it was the second best cure for actually _settling_ her stomach. She wondered if Rachel knew that somehow or if it was just a fluke.

Not that she was feeling queasy just now so much as furious and, oddly, kind of thrilled by Berry's audacity. While getting a slushie in the face was the exact opposite of _hot_, clashing with Rachel, however disturbing it might be, really _was_. When the fire rose in Rachel's eyes, and Quinn knew it was burning because of her, _for her_, oh yeah, that was . . . hot.

Still, she thought, wiping a hand down her sticky face and accidentally forcing slush to slide over her chin and down her neck in icy trails, it might be a good idea if the two of them made a pact to leave the slushies out of their flirting in future.

Santana was primed and ready for the kill but Quinn caught her arm before she could race after Rachel.

"We'll get her later."

"But . . .!"

"She's surrounded by losers right now. We'll get her when she's alone."

"Yeah, okay," Santana smirked viciously. "That works."

It was only minutes later, as she was heading to the locker rooms to shower and change into a clean uniform that her thoughts caught up with her. She grew hot under the collar, melting the flavored ice clinging to her neckline. She had to duck her head; suddenly unable to make eye-contact with anyone as she cringed in dismay.

Fighting! She'd meant, leave it out of their _fighting_, not . . . not . . . !

Oh, _God_, her entire life was a nightmare.

* * *

><p>Rachel found a note in her locker after school.<p>

_Congratulations, you do have guts. Stupid, idiotic guts that are going to get your ass kicked, but still, I'm vaguely impressed by them. If you know what's good for you you'll keep your merry band of user losers around you at all times for the next few days. x_

_New rule: No more slushies – they take too long to clean up and they're really cold, Rachel! Did you know that? ;) And they're not exactly original either. I think we can both do better, don't you ;) x_

Multiple winks, multiple kisses? Rachel was beaming by the time she'd read the note for the second time. Folding it up carefully, she pushed it into her bag – this one was going in the yearbook (_her_ yearbook at home, not the school's next addition due out in a few months) with the letter.

Of course, the threat at the end was a little disconcerting, she wasn't sure she wanted to find out just how creative Quinn could get, not like this. Then again, by her own wording Quinn was granting Rachel the chance to join her, match her, _best _her if possible, in a battle much more stimulating than throwing drinks at each other would ever be.

Naturally she was going to rise to the challenge, if only to turn Quinn's _vaguely impressed_ into _very impressed. _So really, the only question she had about it all was:

What did the winner get?

Rachel couldn't wait to find out.


	24. Every Rule I Had You Breakin'

****  
>So, that delay was much longer than I anticipated. Sorry about that. This time I shall blame hectic hen weekends and the fact that I rewrote a large chunk of this before I was happy with it. Now, ever onwards!<p>

But first! Thanks for the reviews :) So I didn't reply to everyone I just really never had the time, but I read, appreciate and take on board every comment left for me. Thank you.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Three:<strong>

**Every Rule I Had You Breakin'.**

Friday morning brought little relief for any of them.

Kurt was dumpstered on his way across the parking lot. Mercedes was tripped by Santana, falling flat on her face as around her the student body laughed. Artie's chair was chained to the railings outside of school, the key tauntingly left in the padlock just out of his reach. And Tina was TP'd on her way up the front steps, showing up in first period still pulling white toilet paper from her hair and clothes.

Rachel was the only one of Team-Berry that made it through the doors unscathed, which naturally made her suspicious. So she just laughed when she saw the note taped to her locker.

**OUT OF ORDER!**

Do not open.

Seriously? After all of Quinn's big words this was the best she'd been able to think of? It would have been more inventive to glue it shut as they had Mercedes' the day before. Shaking her head in pity, because did Quinn honestly believe that putting a fake janitorial sign on her locker would be enough to make her forgo the books she needed for the day, Rachel twisted the combination lock and pulled the door wide with a confident flourish.

Everything went multi-colored.

She closed her eyes just in time to feel the glitter-bomb paint her entire face in tiny particles and (she was sure) avoid permanent blindness. Gasping in surprise as she staggered back a step, she sucked in an unhealthy amount of the exploding glitter (was any amount healthy?) and as loathe as she was to spit anywhere outside of the dentist chair and the bathroom sink, the _pwahhh_ as she expelled the glitter from her throat was totally unavoidable.

That had her more annoyed than the locker violation itself, until her eyes blinked warily open and she caught sight of her face in the small compact mirror fixed inside the door.

Her face and throat were entirely rainbow colored and she . . . she _sparkled_!

She looked like an exotic bird, resplendent in multihued plumage.

In short, she looked, _awesome_!

There must have been some glue mixed in with the glitter because it didn't fall from her face as she moved closer to the mirror, but she didn't lift her finger to check, not wanting to leave an unsightly clean stripe in its place.

Her eye caught the note propped up on her books next.

_I did warn you not to open it, Gnome ;)_

Laughing, she pushed the note to the back of her locker and gathered the books she needed into her bag and then she took out her phone and snapped a picture of her face. Only then did she decide, reluctantly, that she should probably try and wash it off before class.

She received some strange looks and a lot of laughter on the way to the bathroom but she'd take being glitter-bombed over being tripped, dumpstered, chained to something or TP'd any day of the week.

Besides, it wasn't like she hadn't had a productive morning herself.

* * *

><p>It had been a routine for a few weeks now. Every Thursday Quinn left four of the five handkerchiefs in Rachel's locker and Friday morning Rachel would find a way to hand them back, freshly laundered, before first period.<p>

Even for the week or so that they hadn't been talking, the routine had continued. It was one of the few constants in Quinn's life at the moment, and possibly the most important one considering without them her nausea was given free rein to plague every hour of her day.

She wasn't so sure she could count on it this morning. Not after everything that had happened yesterday, and even though she had watched Berry receive her glitter treat (and it had been so much more effective than she'd expected it to be! She had to remember to thank Puck for telling her how to rig it up) and seen her _smile _about it! she doubted Rachel was in the mood to do her any favors.

So she was pleasantly surprised – and very grateful because her remaining handkerchief was already used up – to walk into first period history and see the box sitting on the edge of Rachel's desk.

She murmured a thanks as she palmed the long box and held it against her thigh. Rachel nodded and Quinn wished she could point out she'd missed some of the glitter under her ear, but that would be helping the enemy and Santana was already sitting at their shared desk at the back.

"Homecoming nominations are today," Santana reminded her once the lesson was underway.

This semester was all about World War Two, which Quinn had zero interest in, so she had no problem focusing on Santana instead of the lesson.

"Yeah. I don't know why they waited this long. Only giving us a week to campaign for votes is insane."

"You sound pretty sure you're going to be nominated."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Santana shrugged, "Do you have your dress yet? If not, me and Britts are going shopping tomorrow."

"My mom's taking me tomorrow; you know what she's like. If I don't get her input it'll be wrong."

That wasn't completely true, not about her mom needing to choose her dress for her, that was always true. Quinn's dress sense when she was younger had been hit and miss and now she actually had the figure to pull of expensive party gowns, her mom refused to let her screw it up. The lie was that her mom didn't know she was taking her tomorrow because Quinn hadn't mentioned it yet, terrified her body was suddenly going to grow a baby bump over night and it would be impossible to hide from her mom while changing in and out of various dresses.

Even Homecoming itself seemed like more hassle than it was worth right now. She had so much other stuff going on! It wasn't that she didn't _want _to be Homecoming Queen, of course she did, it was just further down her list of priorities than it would have been a month ago.

The idea of battling against the likes of Santana for votes . . . their election campaigns wouldn't turn negative, they would _start _negative, and Quinn had so much more to hide – breaking her celibacy vows, the pregnancy, Puck's involvement in both and that _other _thing, the . . . the _Rachel _thing.

If any of the Cheerios running for Homecoming Queen got wind of _any _of these things, they would be used against her. She just about trusted Santana not to reveal her sexual mistakes for personal gain because despite their rivalry they were friends and even Santana had lines she wouldn't cross. Of course, if she got wind of the fact Puck was the father . . . Quinn couldn't be sure, but it might override their friendship just a little, and as for the . . . the _Rachel _thing, well, she didn't entirely know how Santana would use knowledge like that. If she had any sense she'd sit on it until something even bigger than homecoming queen was at stake – not that she was going to offer her friend any tips on how to get the better of her.

Anyone else catching on to any such revelations however, especially a Cheerio hungry for power and eager to boost her reputation, wouldn't think twice and it would travel around the school faster than the speed of light.

Quinn was smart, and she knew just enough about politics from watching political talk shows with her daddy to know it was impossible to keep your skeletons in the closet while running for public office – and that went double for ga . . . for _certain _personal matters that were nobody's business but her own and she'd like to keep it that way forever, thank you very much.

She couldn't not run though, that would create suspicions that could be just as damaging in the long run.

But what was worse?

To not run and have everyone speculating and gossiping about her? To have that creepy Jacob Jewfro conjecturing her absence from the Court on his stupid blog's 'McKinley's Homecoming Week Special!' Read all about it? No, she didn't want everyone reading all about her if she could help it.

Or to run and lose, torn down by a fellow nominee jealous of her likely victory and willing to expose any lies or secrets of Quinn's she came upon – confirmed or not.

And there were _so many _to choose from!

Just the thought of it was enough to turn her mild nausea into an all out threat and, holding her stomach with one hand, she quickly groped her lap for the box.

"Yeah, well text a photo of your dress before you buy it. We don't want to be up on that stage wearing the same thing."

Like Quinn was going to buy off the rack, but she nodded anyway, too busy trying to fumble a handkerchief out of the box to comment.

"What are you doing?" Santana frowned, seeing her frantic movements between her legs. "There's a time and place, Q."

"What? I have allergies," she bit out as she finally pulled one free.

"That's the first time I've heard it called that."

She had no idea what Santana was talking about but the cotton felt cool and clean in her fingertips, if a little heavier than usual, and she raised it to her nose eagerly, taking a deep, calming sniff.

"What the _fuck _are you doing?" Santana burst out, shying away from her.

"I told you, I have . . ." she started to repeat through the handkerchief held over her nose.

Santana was being reprimanded for cursing in class and everyone turned around to watch, obviously. What was less obvious was the reason they all seemed to find her more interesting instead.

There was giggling, a few people's faces held the same distressed reaction as Santana's _still _did. Some girls leaned away as if she was contagious – what? had they never seen anyone blow their nose before? Freaking weirdoes!

The boy directly in front of her was laughing, pulling a face _and _leaning back away from her and then he asked, "Are those _Hudson's_?"

Are what . . .? As a feeling of dread overtook her nausea, she sharply pulled the handkerchief away from her nose only to blanch at the realization that she had been _sniffing _a large pair of yellow cotton boxer shorts.

Quinn threw them away from her in disgust and scrambled in the box for an actual handkerchief. She had a pale blue pair of boxer shorts over her nose in seconds, but only recognized them as such by Santana's sharp,

"Q, what is _wrong_ with you!"

Oh, for God's sake!

"They're mine, okay, and they're clean!" she snapped, face burning.

The third item pulled out of the box between her thighs felt normal but she held it up to inspect it first. Yes, it was a green cotton handkerchief. After just holding it to her nose for a few seconds she faked a blow while the teacher brought everyone else under control with the threat of detention.

At the front of the class, Rachel was the only one who hadn't turned around. Quinn watched as she licked her finger and drew a one in the air.

Yeah, okay, that round definitely went to Berry. Quinn found herself smirking, but it was only because she was already thinking about retaliation.

* * *

><p>Team-Berry assembled in the cafeteria at recess and Rachel got straight to the point.<p>

"Safety in numbers isn't working by itself. We have to fight back."

"H-h-how?" Tina's dark clothes still had specks of bright white toilet paper clinging all over.

"Without the physical strength the cheerleaders and football players possess I'm suggesting a carpet bombing of slushies, inconvenience and rumors."

Mercedes leaned in, elbows on the table. "I'm listening."

* * *

><p>Recess was almost over but there was still a few minutes until the bell rang. Rachel, Mercedes and Tina were hovering in an alcove; they all held Big Quench slushies.<p>

"Here they come," Rachel murmured. "Are you ready?"

"N-n-no!"

"All three of them together, this is a dream come true," Mercedes said.

"No," Rachel insisted, glaring briefly at her. "Quinn doesn't get touched."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Not at all."

"Look, I know you're holding a candle for her or something but . . ."

"I'm not holding anything for her, but she's pregnant, it's wrong to throw icy beverages in her face."

"You slushied her y-y-yesterday!"

"I had a point to make, and now it's made. The other two are fair game though."

* * *

><p>Quinn saw them coming and actually panicked, although she doubted it showed on her face. She couldn't be slushied two days in a row! Not only had yesterday's been cold, sticky and time-consuming, it had also been a humiliating experience to receive a slushie facial in the halls from Rachel-freaking-Berry.<p>

The rest of the school didn't have a clue with what was going on with the members of Glee, but that didn't mean they weren't enjoying every second of seeing the club tear each other down and under that kind of scrutiny Quinn could only take so much before she had to really start hitting back.

So she breathed a sigh of relief when she walked by them without incident – sometimes people did buy slushies just to drink them after all – until she heard the dual shrieks behind her.

Spinning on the spot she saw Santana and Brittany wearing one and half Big Quench's each.

'_Crap!'_

"Come _here_, you fucking . . .!" The only thing that saved Rachel from Santana's furious lunge was her feet slipping in the ice on the floor.

Brittany managed to catch her before she fell and Quinn had to really fight the urge to scream at Rachel to _run_ before it was too late. Luckily, the three girls had never slowed down and were lost in the crowds heading to class before Santana had regained her footing enough to give chase.

"That fugly midget is _dead!_" her friend snarled

"I have slushie in my hair and on my face and on my uniform but none went in my mouth," Brittany sounded more upset than angry. "And cherry's my favorite too."

"Yeah, but it stains hair," Quinn remembered, being careful not to slip herself as she took their elbows. "So let's go and get you cleaned up."

Truthfully, they didn't need her help and it would make her unnecessarily late for class, but she needed to keep an eye on Santana if she was going to prevent her from making good on her threat.

* * *

><p>"That's the first t-t-time I've ever thrown a s-s-slushie!"<p>

"I can see why people do it to us all the time; it felt good."

Rachel nodded as she repeatedly checked over her shoulder to make sure they weren't being followed. Although it wasn't her first – that had been yesterday – and it hadn't felt particularly enjoyable to her; satisfying maybe on a childish level but not pleasant.

"Are Kurt and Artie still on schedule to handle Puck and Matt?"

"They were going to buy the manure right after Glee."

"Good. They have a football game tonight so their cars will be in the school lot all evening. Kurt will be playing, obviously, but the rest of us will assemble as soon as the game commences."

She left them then, still having another phase to put into action before the bell for third period rang.

* * *

><p>It wasn't unusual for Mr. Schuester to ask them to meet in the Choir room at lunch. Sometimes he had a new song he wanted to try out on them, sometimes he wanted to run through troublesome choreography, sometimes it was just for a pep talk and once – like today – he apparently had no idea at all what they were all doing there together.<p>

"So, uh, as we're all here, does anyone have their assignment song prepared?"

There were several _no's_ and several _I'm hungry's _but Rachel, in her usual seat at the front, perked up at the chance of an impromptu performance.

"I have something to share. It's not for the assignment, but I know you'll all enjoy it anyway."

She stood up to stride to the middle of the floor . . .

She _tried _to stand up and stride to the middle of the floor. It was hampered by the way the _chair_ came with her, forcing her into an unnatural stoop with her knees bent around it.

"What's happening?" She waddled a few steps but her chair stuck fast to her skirt. "What's happening!"

People were laughing but Mike valiantly came down to help her.

"Someone must have glued your chair. Just hold still, Rachel. I'll pull it off."

Oh, he pulled it off alright, and took her whole skirt with it!

With a shriek she dropped onto her butt, covering her underwear as much as she could.

The embarrassment made her cheeks flame red but it didn't stop her noticing Quinn, doubled over mid-laughing fit, lick her finger and draw a one in the air.

* * *

><p>Naturally, the Glee session broke up shortly afterwards and Rachel, after Mike had fetched her gym shorts from her locker for her, hurried to the rendezvous point.<p>

"Sorry, I'm late, do you . . .?"

"I want payment up front."

Rachel eyed Jacob Ben Israel like the weasel he was. "I can go as high as twenty dollars."

"I already told you I have no use for money. Either give me what I asked for or the deal's off."

"Your price is too steep!"

"Not where Quinn Fabray is concerned. She could kill me! It's a deal-breaker, Rachel."

Rachel weighed her choices. She could say no and lose her secret weapon, or she could take one for the team, so to speak. Everyone in Glee had been treated to a view of her panties twenty minutes ago . . . for payback this was a small price to pay.

"Okay." She looked to the door of the classroom and then turned her back on the small window before closing her eyes and raising her sweater over her breasts for less than half a second. Pulling it back down and feeling dirtier than she ever had in her life, she said, "Okay, now you have to do it or I will actually kill you and stuff your body in your locker for the janitors to find when you start to decompose."

"I already have my boom box programmed," he grinned sleazily.

Ugh, who called it a boom box anymore? Other than her dad, she conceded, as she followed Jacob and his portable stereo out of the classroom and towards the cafeteria.

"Just remember," she hissed in his ear as they reached the doors. "No matter what she says, don't stop."

Rachel let him have a ten second head start before going though the doors herself and taking a seat at the Team-Berry table. People may or may not have acknowledged her, she had no idea, she was too busy waiting for the show to start.

* * *

><p>Quinn was sitting at her usual lunch table. It was the <em>top <em>table, full of cheerleaders and football players. Usually she was in the middle of it, exactly where the most popular girl should be, but she was sat at the end today for two reasons.

One, news of her boxer-sniffing had gotten around. The ribbing she was taking was good-natured, mostly becausenobody at this table really dared put a foot wrong in case she came down on them hard, but it was still enough to make her want to blend into the background a little more than usual.

Two, she was still busy laughing with Santana and Brittany about her chair prank on Berry. Again it had been better than she'd expected. She'd thought Rachel would waddle around a little, look like an idiot and that would be the end of it. But Mike pulling her entire skirt off with one tug! That was freaking priceless!

A shadow fell over her and she looked up irritably, her lip curling in distaste when she realized it was Jewfro.

"What do you want?"

"I have a message from a secret admirer," he said nervously and placed a large stereo on the table next to her tray.

A secret admirer? Her brain ping-ponged between Puck and Berry, but she had no idea what to think beyond that.

"What is it?"

A note was thrust into her hand: _ENJOY, LOVER! ;)_

Santana snatched it away before Quinn could stop her, just as Jewfro hit play and some nasty over-sexed hip hop track started playing.

"Who's it from?"

It was written in block capitals and if it hadn't been for the wink Quinn would have been just as clueless as her shrug made out.

Catcalls rose up around her and, after a quick glance down the table at her friends, she snapped her attention in the same direction as theirs.

Jewfro was wriggling his shirt over his pudding belly towards his pigeon chest in a series of body movements that might, on his home planet, be considered sexy (but never on Earth!).

"What are you doing?"

"This is all for you, Quinn Fabray," he promised, before dropping his shirt back down and then ripping it open and jiggling his bare chest towards her.

"Go away!" Her face was about to melt, be it from embarrassment or anger.

He didn't. "You know you want it, baby," he yelped. "Everyone knows you want me!"

Of course nobody thought that, but this was how rumors got started at McKinley. The dozens of people watching this loser make a spectacle of her would tell their friends, who would tell _their_ friends, and it became a game of Chinese Whispers. By Monday morning you'd be able to find fifty kids who hadn't seen a thing but could tell you in great detail all about how Jacob Whathisface had outed his torrid love affair with Quinn Fabray via a sexy dance in the cafeteria – and at least a third of those would swear they heard Quinn had instigated it.

As appalled as she was, she knew she had to just laugh it off, if she laughed it off everyone would know it was a joke. She was still working to get the laughter to come out of her mortified throat when he ripped his Velcro-seamed (what the _hell_!) pants off with a loud grunt and rolled his hips into her face.

"Take it, Quinn Fabray, you know you want it."

Confronted by a Y-pant covered groin thrust inches from her face her fist reacted on instinct.

A second later the pervert was writhing around the cafeteria floor and being pelted by fries from all sides and Quinn was out of her seat.

* * *

><p>"Yowser!" the loser mumbled, rolling around with tears in his eyes as he clutched both hands between his legs. "Did you see that? You all saw that right? Quinn Fabray touched my junk!"<p>

He held his hand up for a high five and Brittany leant down to give him one before Santana pulled her back, nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Score!" Puck congratulated him sarcastically and then the three of them ignored him as they watched Quinn stride angrily towards the geek table at the back.

* * *

><p>Rachel startled as she realized Quinn wasn't rushing out of the cafeteria to hide her blushes but was, in fact, coming straight for her. She fumbled the lid from her lunch box and a sandwich into her mouth, trying to look nonchalant, but failing because she couldn't stop her eyes widening with every step of Quinn's approach.<p>

As always the crowd parted for the head cheerleader and by the time Rachel thought perhaps retreat might have been the better part of valor in this circumstance, she was trapped. Quinn leaned down into her personal space, one hand on the back of her chair and one on the table, giving her nowhere to go but further back in her seat as those glinting hazel eyes bore into her own without reprieve. The sandwich was left dangling from her mouth as she freed her hands – just in case she needed them to protect her nose.

Quinn simply continued to stare her down, however; her face unfriendly but her eyes projecting more fire than ice. It was . . . interesting. Without thinking Rachel reached up and pulled the neck of her sweater out a few times, in a cooling fashion. The feeling was genuine but the gesture theatrical and entirely subconscious (she might've even fanned herself with a hand too if the sandwich wasn't hanging in the way).

It broke the tension a little as Quinn's eyes dipped to the movement and then her lips treated Rachel to the tiniest of secret smirks.

* * *

><p>Across the room the trio were still watching with growing interest as Quinn and Berry remained locked in a hostile staring match.<p>

"Think they're really doing it?" Puck asked around a mouthful of fries.

"Totally," Santana murmured, voice filled with conviction and awe. "Is it Christmas? It feels like it should be Christmas."

Brittany stopped watching the pair long enough to look worriedly at her best friend. "It's not is it? I haven't even _started_ my letter to Santa yet!"

Santana patted her hand, absently reassuring her as Puck asked, "Why d'you say that?"

"Because what you see over there is Q wrapping me up the best gift ever." She offered Puck a fist bump, which he accepted because Puck didn't turn down fist bumps even if he didn't understand what the hell it was all about. When she pulled her hand away she laughed, "Look at me, I'm so excited I'm shaking. This is the best day of my life."

They watched as Quinn got bored of staring Berry into submission, pushed off of the chair and table and stalked out of the lunch room. Now the show was over Puck thought about asking Santana to explain why she was so excited. Her and Q were friends but he knew that look and it spelled trouble and Quinn was carrying his kid, so that, like, automatically meant he worried about her and shit, sometimes.

Brittany was making stick figures out of his fries. Santana was still grinning like a maniac – it was kinda hot.

Screw it, Q had made it clear a bunch of times she didn't give a crap about him.

"Wanna go make out in the alcove?" he asked his ex as he stood up, dusting the fry residue off of his hands.

"Sure." Santana _and _Brittany said at the same time, both rising to their feet.

There was a moment of shared awkward looks between the three of them – well, Brittany was on the receiving end of two but just shrugged to say she didn't understand. After a beat the other two shrugged as well and the three of them left the table, stepping over a still wimpering Jewfro together.

* * *

><p>Rachel was pleased she had suggested that Glee be a safe, feud free space and that Quinn had backed her up. Santana's murderous eyes never left her once but she made it through the session unharmed.<p>

The same couldn't be said for her Glee folder of notes, original lyrics and sheet music however – not to mention her World Geography project that she'd carelessly left in there too.

She could have only taken her eyes off of it for a minute but that was all that was needed and it was only Mike's quick reaction with the fire extinguisher – dousing the trash can with smelly, off-white foam – that saved the Lima Fire Department a trip to the school.

Mr. Schuester had demanded to know who had been smoking in the Choir room and even Santana's smirk-ridden comment of, "It must have been Berry, it was her stuff after all" didn't clue him in on the real culprit.

Quinn didn't look at her once the entire two hours, not even when Rachel was ranting, well screaming really, about two months of hard work going up in flames.

She hated that she was more upset about that than the bonfire itself.

* * *

><p>They didn't put the manure in the car or the truck obviously. Rachel didn't want to be guilty of or charged with breaking and entering or criminal damage, but Team-Berry (minus Kurt) – wearing the thick gloves and disposable see-through raincoats Rachel had bought that afternoon – liberally spread both vehicles with the foul-smelling sludge.<p>

"Are we doing Quinn's car too?" Artie asked, seeing it sitting only a dozen spaces away.

"Sure." Mercedes was already dragging one of the twenty pound bags over there.

It was very tempting, so tempting Mercedes already had a hand in the bag before Rachel found the strength to speak up.

"We can't."

"Sure we can." Artie rolled over to join Mercedes. "No one's around to see us."

"We can't spread a mixture of horse feces and rotting vegetation on a pregnant girl's car. Not only will the smell of it no doubt elevate her morning sickness to a degree where hospitalization is necessary, think about what health risks we'll be exposing the baby to."

"It'll be fine!" Mercedes rolled her eyes. "It's _organic_."

"Pardon my language, but yes, organic _shit_!"

"I-I'm actually with R-r-Rachel on this one."

"Thank you, Tina. Now if . . ."

"Considering she's the one who started this little vendetta in the first place, you seem really keen to keep Blondie safe. Are you sure you don't have a thing for her?"

"No, Mercedes, I don't have a _thing_ for her. How psychologically damaged do you think I am?" Rachel threw her hands in the air. "She's been nothing but horrible to me since the day I met her. But that doesn't mean I want to declare biological warfare on an unborn child."

Artie shrugged, "So we do something else to her car."

"We could just shove manure in the tail-pipe."

"I don't know. There's an abundance of methane in manure. What if the tail pipe gets really hot because of the blockage?"

"So?"

Artie explained for her, "So, I think Rachel's trying to say that blowing Quinn and her unborn baby up might be just as bad as exposing her to horse crap diseases."

"Oh. I guess."

"What else is t-there?"

Rachel turned to Tina as she spoke and it came to her. With a devious smirk, she said, "Tina, Mercedes, go to the nearest restrooms and bring back all of the rolls of toilet paper you can carry!"

* * *

><p>As soon as Quinn's bright red car looked like it had been carefully gift-wrapped in white and the smell from Puck's truck and Matt's car was starting to nauseate them all, Team-Berry said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.<p>

Rachel stayed at the school for a while longer, drifting out on to the packed bleachers bordering the football field just as the third quarter started. The games had always drawn a crowd – because people came to see the award-winning Cheerios squad – but now that the football team had started to win a few games occasionally there were even more people watching and cheering – and booing – than ever.

She could appreciate the school spirit, but somehow just being a part of this crowd made her feel more alone than ever.

She was only planning to stay a few minutes to give Kurt the agreed upon signal so that he would know to forgo changing after the game. Her plan fell apart however as soon as she caught sight of Quinn on the sidelines, cheering louder and harder than the rest of her squad combined – she wasn't just head cheerleader because she was the prettiest girl in school, after all – and looking so alive and happy and, well, pretty.

Rachel watched, captivated, as they performed their famous pyramid routine to the delight of the spectators. She felt a thread of concern as Quinn was flipped up to the top and marvelled at the way she balanced up there, arms held high and proud, for what felt like hours not minutes, before doing a somersault into a male cheerleader's arms.

She was spectacular and Rachel couldn't tear her eyes away.

* * *

><p>"Oh, this is good." Quinn could hardly hear Santana's gleeful comment over the noise of the crowd behind them. "Manhands is up there and <em>all<em> alone."

She stiffened and faltered, passing it off as needing to stretch her back out a little before thrusting her pompoms into the air again.

What the hell was Berry doing here? Was she stupid? If Santana got hold of her . . .

'_Is she here to watch me?' _

It wasn't even her ego that asked the question; truthfully she didn't know what had prompted her to go there. They were fighting and Rachel had made it plainly clear that she was not Quinn's biggest fan right now. So why would she come out on a Friday night just to see her cheer?

It wasn't totally far-fetched though, was it? She couldn't remember Berry ever being at a football game in the past – not even when she was pursuing Finn – so obviously tonight's attendance had to be due to some recent change in taste.

And that meant her . . . didn't it?

She didn't want to know why the idea of Rachel coming out to watch her cheer was so thrilling. It was better to ignore it. Ignore it while at the same time continuing to let herself enjoy it, obviously. Right now she was planted squarely on the halfway line between denial and acceptance. It was a good spot; she was happy there.

Extra careful these days to not show weakness or tiredness or any other sign of her pregnancy in front of Coach Sylvester, Quinn was already way on top of her game tonight, but knowing Berry was out there put even more pep in her step. Quinn felt like an energizer bunny on vitamin D as she danced about on the sidelines leading cheer after cheer.

Until she saw Mike Chang make a flying leap into the air to receive the ball and dance away down the field with it. Okay, he didn't really _dance_, he ran and dodged and ducked his way down the field fast, but in her mind he was prancing towards the touchdown line like a hippo ballerina.

What if Rachel was there to watch Mike instead?

It would make more sense. Quinn didn't think the two had had another date since Puck's party but they were still friendly in school and Mike sat beside Rachel in Glee sometimes. Mike was also the only Glee guy – other than Finn – that was refusing to pick a side in the current feud – in fact he had been the one to _save _her twice today.

Of _course _she was there to watch Mike.

Quinn deflated, pompoms falling to her thighs as she watched Mike race for the end zone. He was going to make the touchdown. He was going to score because Rachel was there to watch him. And then, after the game he was probably going to score _with_ Rachel because she was watching him gain the Titan's first points of the game and people in positions of power and popularity got Rachel-freaking-Berry hot.

Behind her the crowd was just one big, roaring cheer of encouragement which switched abruptly to a collective "Oooooooh" as the skinny boy was tackled with the force of a freight train by an opposing Line-Backer just yards from the line.

"Yes!" Quinn jumped high, feet tucking behind her knees, right pompom thrusting into the air and her left out to the side as she performed a perfect one-woman cheer.

Oops.

She'd just cheered for the wrong team and several Cheerios, the players on the bench and half the crowd had noticed. Coach Tanaka especially was giving her a wounded look. She shot them all the same 'Don't fuck with me' look and brushed the embarrassment off.

"Cover for me," Santana was suddenly saying in her ear. "I'm gonna go get Frodo now before the Hobbit disappears back into her hole."

Quinn darted in front of her, waving her pompoms around as a lame distraction. "We _can't_ cover for you. And Coach will shoot you if she sees you gone. Just leave it for now. We'll catch up with Berry in the parking lot after the game."

Santana switched her glare from somewhere up in the bleachers, to Quinn to back to the bleachers before standing down. "Fine, can do more damage without witnesses anyways."

Santana's teeth bared viciously and Quinn assumed she'd caught Rachel's eye. As soon as her friend lost interest and moved away to talk to Brittany and Kassie, Quinn spun around to try and catch a glimpse of the girl herself. It wasn't difficult; she hadn't even taken a seat and was just standing on the steps as if she'd frozen in place halfway up, transfixed by something. And judging by her position it wasn't something out on the field.

She so wasn't there to watch Mike.

Confirmation came immediately as, noticing her attention, Rachel's eyes flicked to hers and burned like they weren't surrounded by a hundred other people. It wasn't the friendliest of staring contests but it went on and on and the look in those dark eyes – somehow angry and smug and nervous and adoring all at the same time – was enough to steal the breath from her lungs and make her gulp at the strong reaction it caused in her chest and her knees. The unexpected rush of feelings turned the cool smirk she was going for into a bashful smile.

She only swallowed harder when Rachel shyly returned it.

Before she could think to stop herself she was raising her hand to wave, forgetting for a second that she was holding a pompom. She ended up just shaking it lightly in Berry's direction and even from here she could see the way it made Rachel chuckle and duck her eyes to her toes. It was just for a second and then she was meeting Quinn's gaze again with a smile so coy it should have been illegal.

'_Oh boy.'_

So, this was a weird moment, she was practically having cheer-sex with Rachel-freaking-Berry. It . . . it was like cheer-_foreplay!_

This just . . . wasn't okay!

So she did the only thing she could think of to make it stop and turned away to face the field. She jumped up and down a few times, trying to shake the weirdness away, but it wasn't happening, not when she was sure that she could still feel those dark brown eyes sliding up and down her back.

She looked sharply back over her shoulder and, yep, sure enough. She made a show of rolling her eyes but there was no disguising the size of the smile on her face now. Fine, Berry wanted to watch? Might as well give her something worth watching.

"Okay, guys," she called out. "The Titans are showing their usual levels of suckitude out there so, as always, it's down to us to give the crowd their money's worth. Let's show them Cheer Seven!"

"Sure that's wise in your condition?" Santana muttered, her expression caught somewhere between sarcasm and concern.

"Just shut up and do it."

A few minutes into the energetic routine, Quinn was revelling in the feel of the air rushing past her as between them Ricky and Brittany sent her high enough into the sky to perform a somersault before swan-diving back down into their waiting arms and being swung back into a standing position.

The spectators went wild – as they always did for Cheer Seven – but as she turned to face them again with the rest of the squad, pompoms pumping into the air, there was only one person's admiration she was seeking. And judging by the awed smile and dazed eyes that met hers as soon as she gave them a chance, she'd earned it fair and square. It was almost embarrassing; if Berry didn't shut her mouth soon her tongue was going to flop out like a panting dog.

Quinn shot her a wink before turning back around and cheering on the lacklustre Titans game like it was the Super Bowl.

* * *

><p>Well, that had been an interesting twenty minutes.<p>

After realizing she had been spotted, not only spotted but caught staring directly at the cheerleaders by Santana, she'd been overtaken by a moment of sheer terror. While rationally she knew there were at least a hundred people in close proximity that could defend her if things turned violent, it didn't reassure her in the slightest. The look in Santana's eyes could only be described as deadly and the manic baring of her teeth didn't help either.

Rachel had been preparing herself to run, but then Quinn had turned around and she knew the cheerleader was deliberately seeking her out because their eyes met instantly. She had expected an equally murderous look to be on her face – after all, feud aside, she was breaking the 'rules' just by being up here when Quinn was down there – but Rachel couldn't have been more wrong.

As for the breathtaking display that had followed . . . well if she hadn't thought it was for her benefit before, Quinn's wink left her in little doubt now.

Quinn had been showing off _for her_. Rachel didn't understand why, she didn't even care why at this point – that was something she could let trouble her in bed later – but Quinn was happy she was watching. Quinn _wanted_ her to watch her and was going to extremes to make it happen.

So Rachel did, for far too long, and Quinn didn't disappoint.

It was only as the last few minutes were running down on the clock that Rachel realized she needed to go and tear the toilet paper from Quinn's car. She couldn't let her have to deal with that now, not after . . . whatever the last half an hour had been. She'd know it was Rachel's doing and Rachel just wanted this war between them to be over now. She was done, Quinn was forgiven for manipulating her, there was still a chance for things to be okay between them.

Quinn was down there cheering her heart out for her attention so maybe they'd be even better than okay.

But it was too late!

The final whistle was blowing, Santana was already turning to seek her out once more, and all Rachel could do was run away.

Accidentally, but fortuitously considering she'd stayed much longer than was wise, she bumped into Kurt as she was fleeing the bleachers. He, in turn, was fleeing the football field.

"So you did it?" he asked breathlessly.

"Mission accomplished. And we TP'd Quinn's car."

He didn't seem to notice the wince and frown as she admitted that. "Excellent. Now we just need to try and escape school grounds with our lives."

"I actually need to find somewhere to hide. I forgot to call my Dads in time and Santana knows I'm here. I can't wait in plain sight."

"My Dad's picking me up. We'll give you a ride."

Rachel beamed. She knew all of this sabotage and subterfuge together would result in real friendships. "Thank you, Kurt!"

"You'll have to slouch down in the back though, so that no one sees us leaving together. No offence, but my stock prices are too low around here already."

Rachel sighed; she'd been _so close_. "Those are acceptable terms for saving my life, I suppose."

* * *

><p>Quinn was still riding the adrenaline high as she walked to the parking lot with several of the Cheerios and members of the football team.<p>

She was trailing at the back with Santana and Brittany because a) she was giving them both a ride home and b) she knew Santana was looking for Berry and she might have to either distract her or tackle her to stop her from attacking the other girl. She really hoped the first one would be enough because she had no idea how she would explain the second one.

So she jumped a little when Puck suddenly shouted at the top of his voice. "What the hell is this shit?"

"Uh, judging by the smell," Finn began. "Shit, maybe?"

"It's all over mine too!" Matt sounded distraught.

Quinn surged through the other kids, with Santana and Brittany flanking her, to see what they were complaining about.

Seeing the lumpy, gooey mess that covered both vehicles she had to take a quick step back, hand going over her nose and mouth. Mostly it was to block out the smell, but it had the added benefit of covering her giggle too.

"Who the hell did this?" Puck demanded.

"You got Team-Berry'd," Brittany deadpanned.

Quinn cut her a surprised look because, yeah it was pretty obvious Rachel's user losers had been behind this, but Team-Berry? Seriously? That was so lame.

"You need to wash it off before it ruins the paint," Mike said, after checking his car was manure-free.

"How am I supposed to go wash it when I can't even stand to get near it?" Puck asked, holding his sleeve over his nose.

Quinn was having serious trouble keeping her chuckles in check. Normally she wouldn't try and stop herself but because it had been Berry, well, they were supposed to hate each other and showing mirth over her prank would look bad.

The urge to laugh only left when Brittany asked, "Quinn, how come it only snowed on your car and nowhere else?"

"What?"

Quinn darted around Puck's truck to see what she meant and groaned. Her car had been thoroughly TP'd, not even a glimpse of red paint or black tire was visible. It must have taken them ages.

Her fists clenched at her sides, her good Berry-induced mood was completely destroyed by her now bad Berry-induced mood. "I'm going to _kill _her!"

_Calm down, it's not like she covered it in horse poop._

'_Fine, no killing, just some maiming.'_

_I suppose that could count as moderation . . . sort of._

'_I can't just let her get away with this!'_

_You know this is just retaliation. She didn't start it. _

'_You suck sometimes.'_

_. . . _

'_I didn't mean that.'_

_I'm omnipotent, I know you didn't. _

Quinn rubbed a tired hand over her forehead as she, and several snickering Cheerios, stared at her toilet-paper coated car. She was feeling doubly annoyed because, for a while there this evening, she'd been seriously thinking about calling this whole feud thing off.

She liked Rachel. She didn't want to and she didn't know why, but it was obvious that she did, and maybe they'd never even be decent friends after everything she'd done but she enjoyed swapping notes with her in American Lit. and she liked how the girl was always there to help when her morning sickness was really bad, and she smelled really good - like _really good –_ and . . . and she just didn't want to fight with her anymore.

Now Rachel had made Quinn being the one to back down impossible. She could have done it before and saved face, but not now when _everyone_ at the top of McKinley's social ladder had witnessed this blatant disregard of her superior position.

Rachel had to be dead to her now, at least until everyone forgot about this.

"Finn! Help me get this crap off my car!"


	25. Man I'm Thrown And I Don't know What

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**Man I'm Thrown And I Don't Know What To Do.**

The weekend passed slowly for Rachel.

Other than her vocal training on Saturday evening and a short visit to a farmers market Sunday morning with her Dads, she had nothing specific to do and no inclination to do anything else.

She didn't even want to work on her Glee assignment!

Early Sunday evening, after three or four hours spent just staring listlessly at her bedroom ceiling, she turned on her computer. She didn't always do a video for MySpace on the weekends, but maybe she would tonight just to quell the thoughts and feelings currently whirling around in her. Anything that took her mind off of Quinn right now was a good thing.

Instead she found herself logging onto Facebook and, after hardly any sensible deliberation at all, clicked on Quinn's profile.

They were only Facebook friends at all because she had made a community site for the Glee Club and had insisted that every member join so they could all be kept up to date with rehearsal schedules and other important events – like Sectionals, which, despite her and Mr. Schuester constantly reminding them of, everyone seemed to forget were coming up soon.

Quinn had left four status updates since Friday night and each one made Rachel's eyes go a little wider.

_**Quinn Fabray **is telling Team-Berry, you're dead!_

_**Quinn Fabray **is plotting ways to kill Manhands._

_**Quinn Fabray **is thinking Team-Berry is the stupidest team name ever. _

_**Quinn Fabray **is wondering if suffocation by ridiculously ugly argyle socks is too humane for this situation._

According to the time-stamps the updates spanned forty-four hours. There were a bunch of like-minded comments from various Cheerios, the most virulent coming from _**Santana Lopez, **_but, honestly, all Rachel could see was that she'd been on Quinn's mind for nearly two days straight.

Okay, so this wasn't the nicest form of attention, but it was better than being ignored completely.

Telling herself she was just looking to see if any of _Team-Berry_ was online because they needed to discuss their plan of attack for Monday, she clicked on Facebook chat, and nearly closed the social networking site completely when she saw Quinn's name there.

She shouldn't, she _knew _she shouldn't!

She didn't have to.

**Quinn: **I take it I got your attention?

**Rachel: **I take it I got yours?

**Quinn: **It took twenty minutes to get it all off!

**Rachel: **It took nearly an hour to put on!

**Quinn: **Sucks to be you then.

**Rachel: **By getting my attention do you mean with the death threats or the cheerleading?

There was a pause before the next reply.

**Quinn: **The death threats obviously.

**Rachel: **Why do you even want my attention anyway?

**Quinn: **I don't!

**Quinn: **I'm just bored.

**Quinn: **You ruined everything with your TP stunt you know?

She'd known she had, even if she'd spent most of the weekend trying to convince herself it had been a lost cause from the beginning.

**Rachel: **I wasn't aware there was anything to ruin.

**Quinn: **Fine, if you say so.

Rachel decided to take a stupid chance, because after all, if her previous comment was true she had nothing to lose.

**Rachel: **What did I ruin?

It felt like ages before there was reply, Rachel was just starting to give up on receiving one altogether.

**Quinn: **Did you enjoy the football game?

Rachel smiled at the avoidance.

**Rachel:** Honestly? I don't think I watched any of the game.

**Quinn: **:)

**Quinn: **Sorry, my fingers slipped on the keys. Why were you there if you weren't watching the game?

**Rachel: **We ran out of toilet paper and I was bored ;)

**Quinn: **LOL

**Quinn: **Sorry, fingers slipping everywhere again.

**Rachel: **That's okay; I don't mind your fingers slipping anywhere.

Oh no! She blushed as soon as the message appeared on the screen.

**Rachel: **Everywhere!

Oh, Barbra, that made it sound even worse!

**Quinn: **Um?

**Rachel: **Sorry! That was MY fingers slipping! I didn't mean that how it looks!

**Quinn: **Okay. I have to go.

**Rachel: **Please don't! That really was an unintended innuendo.

**Quinn: **Sure. Whatever.

**Quinn: **Look I can't do this. I'm sorry or whatever but it's better if we just hate each other.

**Rachel: **I don't think you mean that.

**Quinn: **Everyone saw what you did to my car! I have to torture you tomorrow or else I'll never live it down.

**Rachel: **Does your popularity really mean more than . . .

She left the sentence in mid-air, not prepared to put herself out there but needing Quinn to answer, if she even understood what was being asked.

She did.

**Quinn: **Yes.

**Quinn: **I'm sorry, but it's not like we're actually friends or anything anyway.

**Rachel: **But you said yourself, we're something.

**Quinn: **I thought you didn't believe anything I said anymore?

Rachel propped her elbow up beside her keyboard and buried her face in her palm for a moment. She _shouldn't_ believe anything that came out of the blonde's mouth anymore. Quinn had _never _proved herself trustworthy; in fact she'd always done the exact opposite. She wanted to though, so badly.

**Rachel: **Can you give me a reason to change my mind?

**Quinn: **No.

**Quinn: **I don't even trust half the things I say right now.

**Rachel:** So, I'm assuming, this conversation never happened and tomorrow we go back to the way things have been.

**Quinn: **I think that's for the best. I can't give you what you want.

Frustrated, Rachel's fingers pounded against the letters on the keyboard.

**Rachel: **All I want is for you to be my FRIEND!

**Quinn: **And I can't GIVE you that, Berry! Christ, don't you get it? I don't want to be your damn FRIEND!

Shoving her keyboard tray in hard and scrubbing her sleeve over the imminent threat of tears in her eyes, Rachel walked away from her computer desk to sprawl face first on her bed, not even caring that it made her still slightly bruised nose sting.

It wasn't like this was new information but . . . but she _hated _it! She'd dropped her guard again, starting with Quinn's acceptance of her at the football game and then cemented by their 'chat' this evening and now it had all gone horrible again.

Quinn didn't like her, even as a friend! She'd just been leading her on once more. Rachel didn't know the purpose this time, but it was bound to become apparent soon enough.

Well, Rachel wasn't going to let it happen. She wasn't going to be used by Quinn Fabray ever again.

* * *

><p>Quinn sat at her computer, elbows on her desk and cheeks in her palms, staring at her monitor in dismay.<p>

She couldn't believe she'd just sent that! Talk about fingers slipping and accidental innuendo!

All she could hope now was that Rachel didn't take it in the way she'd meant it. After all, there were plenty of ways to interpret such a statement, and the truth was probably the last conclusion she would jump to.

It was okay – she tried to calm her rapid breathing – any second now Berry was going to reply with something flippant and annoying that would let her off the hook.

Any second now.

Why was she taking so long to answer?

A glance at the tiny clock in the corner of her screen told her it had only been two minutes; maybe she'd had to answer the call of nature or something.

When five minutes had passed she started to get anxious. What if Rachel was freaking out? Maybe she didn't feel the same way after all! Or maybe she had but didn't care enough anymore, after everything Quinn had done, to acknowledge it. What if Rachel was right now telling everyone else on stupid Team-Berry what she had just said? It would give them the upper hand. She could be ruined by the morning!

**Quinn: **I didn't mean that the way it sounded, obviously.

There was no answer after a minute and she could practically hear Berry cackling with Mercedes and Tina.

**Quinn: **I don't like you like that! I don't actually like you at all! I have a boyfriend!

On some level she knew she was digging a bigger hole for herself but she couldn't seem to stop.

**Quinn: **Even if I didn't, I'd never like you!

**Quinn: **Because I hate you right now!

**Quinn: **Fucking answer me!

**Quinn: **Berry, answer me.

**Quinn: **Please, Rachel!

After another fifteen minutes of feeling frightened and thoroughly pathetic with still no response, Quinn switched her computer off and went to bed.

Tomorrow was going to be bad.

* * *

><p>In Rachel's room, halfway across town, her computer's inner sleep alarm activated, turning itself off after twenty minutes of non-use and burying the Facebook chat deep in the PC's subconscious.<p>

Busy crying into her pillow, Rachel didn't even notice.


	26. I've Drawn Regret From The Truth

****Sorry for the ridiculously long gap between updates. I never meant to leave it so long but when I say life and death got in the way for a while I mean that literally. Also love - it's been a strange roller-coaster of a summer. And although it happened by chance, it feels good to be back in time to mark the season 4 premiere with a fresh chapter :) Hope you enjoy.

The chapter title is from the Linkin Park song - "What I've Done."

**Chapter Twenty-Six:**

**I've Drawn Regret From The **

**Truth Of A Thousand Lies**

Rachel arrived at school Monday morning with a new sense of determination . . . masking the familiar sense of foreboding.

After crying so many tears last night that she was surprised she hadn't woken up in a puddle, she felt . . . calm.

Yes, that was the word. Calm. The worst had happened and was now over, Tornado Quinn had ripped through her life and, remarkably, she was still standing after the storm.

So Quinn didn't return her feelings – that could only be considered a good thing. Why on earth would she want to set her sights on the uptight, prudish, holier-than-thou, intolerant, shallow, popularity-driven, bullying – not to mention pregnant – Quinn Fabray anyway? For goodness sake, didn't she have more self-respect than that? Did she really think that the self-proclaimed Head Bitch of McKinley, the cruel and vindictive captain of the _Cheerios, _was an ideal candidate for a romantic interest? Did she think they'd just click and everything that had happened in their shared past would just melt away so that they could embark on the greatest and most epic of love stories ever?

Really?

Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray?

Clearly not. She'd gotten caught up in the notion of it all and her intrinsically dramatic way of looking at the world had turned a series of, admittedly unusual but perfectly innocent and platonically explainable, events into some quixotic wonderland where she and Quinn were meant to be.

'_Be what?' _Rachel scoffed to herself as she opened her locker. _'Am I going to take Finn's place at the top of William McKinley's food chain? Or is Quinn going to join me at the bottom, hiding in corners with me to avoid slushie facials?'_

No and no!

The only thing they were meant to be was enemies, as Quinn had made quite clear the night before, and Rachel was okay with that. She had to be, when the alternative was clearly madness.

So here she was, with a bright smile and a fresh outlook on life, ready to start the new week with a brand new and much more rational state of mind. Quinn was a Glee-mate and no more than that, as it should be. Rachel felt confident that as soon as she came to terms with that this ridiculous and ill-conceived feud between them would die out and things could get back to normal. So cue olive branches and doves because she was so ready to put the last few embarrassing weeks behind her.

'_We did click though.'_

That was not a helpful thought! It became even less helpful when she allowed it to distract her from her usual hallway vigilance.

Someone called her name in the crowded corridor and she made the rookie mistake of turning from her locker to see who it was. Matt was coming towards her fast and his normal friendly smile was not in place.

Sploosh!

One icy slap to the face later – at least it wasn't the manure she'd been expecting! – she wiped grape slush out of her eyes and turned back to her locker to retrieve her fresh outfit. She was going to have to start bringing spares for her spares at this rate.

Okay, so it would perhaps take a little more time than none at all for the heightened attack level to go back to normal, but she wasn't going to let that get her down. She was still on the right track to putting this outlandish state of affairs between her and Quinn to bed. She just had to remain calm and . . .

Her locker door slammed, only narrowly missing her fingers as she reached for her plastic bag of clothes.

"A word, _Stubbles_?"

She cut her eyes to the seething, heavy-breathing head cheerleader hovering over her and picked one out of the air. "Psychotic?"

"Don't play with me!" Quinn growled, stepping forward into her personal space. Her foot slipped on the crushed ice pooling at their feet bringing her even closer and she had to brace herself on the bank of lockers, accidentally trapping Rachel between her gorgeously-toned arms. "I want to know what you've said, right now."

Rachel was forced to stumble back and naturally her own feet lost purchase in the slippery wet purple mess on the floor. She was going to land on her butt in the puddle, which would have been embarrassing _enough_, but, she realized as her feet were already too far between Quinn's to save herself and her arms were flailing uselessly at her sides to avoid touching the other girl . . . she was going to land on her butt in the puddle with her head approximately level with the bottom of a scandalously short Cheerios skirt.

Quinn's, obviously.

'_This might put a slightly different spin on Operation: Fresh New Outlook!'_

Quinn made no move to save her until the very last moment. A hand shot out, slapping into her chest and snapping her shoulders back against the metal wall. Rachel didn't bother to thank her. She was too scared. She could see in those hazel eyes that this wasn't 'Smack you with a magazine for potentially embarrassing me' Quinn, nor was it 'I have to rough you up but just stand there and think of Barbra and it'll be over before you know it' Quinn. This was 'I am actually going to beat you within an inch of your life for -insert reason here- and there is not a damn thing you or anyone else can do about it' Quinn.

As if to back this up, Quinn leaned even closer, hissing in her face, "Tell me what you told them."

"First of all, I have no idea what you're talking about. And second of all, now isn't really the best time to be doing this, and by _now_ I also mean _here_." Rachel's eyes darted around, not looking for help so much as trying to convey to the other girl just how many witnesses they had. "Perhaps we should have this conversation at a later date?"

Quinn looked over her shoulder and saw that they were in a semi-circle of gawking and openly gossiping students.

"Do you mind? This is a private smack down!" she snarled angrily enough that at least half of the onlookers suddenly found going to class more interesting.

Quinn actually grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, fingers slipping into and fisting the back of her sweater, before yanking on it to get her marching down the hall. They'd only gone a few steps, not even far enough that Rachel had had a chance to try and pull away yet, when she spotted the rest of Team-Berry at the other end of the corridor, just watching them come in fear.

Quinn noticed them too; Rachel could see her satisfied smirk out of the corner of her eye. Not loosening her grip on her sweater, she cocked her other hand on her hip as she addressed them.

"Not rushing to save your fearless leader? You're seriously just gonna stand there and let her take the heat for what you were all a part of?" They said nothing. "Come on, losers, it's four on one, you might even stand a chance." Still nothing, although they did look maybe a little more guilty than before. "That's what I thought."

Quinn swung her around until they were marching in the other direction. "Nice friends you have, Berry."

"What did you expect them to do? Attack a pregnant girl? They're not Neanderthals like you!"

The fist in the back of her sweater twisted tighter, not painfully tight but it was clearly a warning of just how tight it could become.

"And is there a reason they couldn't say: 'Hey, Quinn, don't take it out on Rachel when we were all involved.' Or just 'Hey, leave her alone!' No there wasn't, and the only reason they didn't is because the second they saw that I'd caught you, all they could think about was making sure I didn't catch them too. They don't care about you and whatever you've told them, they're going to use it against you too once they've brought me down."

"What are you talking about?" Rachel insisted, getting sick of being propelled down the corridor by the lunatic cheerleader. The halls were emptying now but still kids turned to look at them. "And where are we going? We've passed three bathrooms already and I need to get cleaned up. I'm already going to be late for class, Quinn!"

"We're going somewhere we won't be disturbed."

Rachel's heart skipped a beat but it wasn't clear to her whether that was down to the little thrill of intimate possibility that ran through her or because she wasn't so sure she wanted to be anywhere with Quinn Fabray that didn't include a lot of witnesses.

"Quinn, please be reasonable, I'm covered in sticky corn syrup!"

Checking there was no one near this end of the hall, Quinn used a master key on a non-descript door and then yanked it open. A tug on Berry's sweater forced her inside.

"Hey, you can't lock me in here now! My face will stay purple for a week!"

* * *

><p>Quinn stepped into the small cupboard after her and swiftly pulled the door shut behind them . . . and, okay, her move was dramatic enough but not as well thought out as it should have been. Quinn's heartbeat kept pace with Rachel's frantic, ragged breathing as she realized what she'd just done.<p>

"Why are we standing in a pitch black janitor's closet?" the fear in Berry's voice was laced with a slightly hysterical amusement.

It took her a minute to answer because she'd suddenly become very aware of that fact too. The cramped space had forced them close enough that she could smell the grape slushie on Rachel's face – not unpleasant but not as nice as how she usually smelled.

That was a good thing; her morning sickness, while not too rampant today, was nevertheless in attendance and she didn't want to risk sending mixed signals with accidental sniffing incidents. There would be no more sniffing Rachel-freaking-Berry ever again. She couldn't believe that was even something she had to say once, let alone keep repeating to herself.

She was close enough she could even feel the coldness left behind from the frozen drink coming off Rachel's skin and that told her they were too close, that all she'd have to do was raise her hands or step forward and they'd be touching, and maybe it was the dark playing tricks on her or maybe it was the fact that she'd just realized that she could feel Rachel's anxious breath on the base of her throat but it was too much and her mind went blank. She couldn't even remember why they'd come in here; she just knew that they were . . . and that she really wanted to step forward.

"Quinn?"

She felt dazed. "What?"

"Why are we standing in the dark?"

"I-ah-I. . . " She bit her bottom lip to keep it occupied and tried to blink away any sign of her thoughts before she let the other girl see her. "Don't get any ideas! I just forgot to put the light on before I closed the door."

She reached up and over her left shoulder for the dangling cord of the light. Fingers catching it lightly, she gave it a tug and the bare overhead bulb flashed to life. She almost turned it straight back off again because seeing Rachel only a few inches away, looking up expectantly, was even worse.

It reminded her of the bowling alley and the look Rachel had given her that had nearly led to a severe lapse in self-control. Anger ripped through her, anger at the way she was feeling, anger at the conclusions she finally couldn't hide from any more and anger at how scared she was for admitting them out loud (on screen) the night before.

She was just so _angry_ and buckets clanged like dull bells and mops fell with a clatter as the utensils were forced aside by Rachel's stumbling feet when Quinn pushed her back against the wall.

It was extremely disturbing how much she enjoyed doing that but now was not the time to focus on it.

What was she saying? _Never_ was the time to focus on it.

"If you've told those losers one thing about last night . . ."

Rachel was cowering back but her eyes were defiant – Quinn loved that too – as she cut her off. "Why would I tell anyone about last night? Do you think our conversation is something I would really want to share?"

"Why wouldn't you? I'm pretty sure they'd all see it as big news. They might even genuinely like you for, oh, five minutes if you handed something like that to them."

"News? You think anything you said was news? They already know it, Quinn!"

She shook her head, refusing to believe it. "Stupid rumors aren't the same as having it confirmed."

"Rumors?" Now Rachel shook her head. And how dare she look so innocent and confused? She'd started this with her stupid experiment and her even stupider crush! "Why are you so upset anyway? I thought this was what you wanted?"

"Are you out of your mind?" Quinn nearly shook her. "I never wanted any of this!"

"Then why go out of your way to make it happen?"

"I didn't. I _didn't_! I haven't done anything. Nothing's happened!"

She was panicking. Did Rachel remember the kiss after all? Oh God! She stepped back, suddenly feeling her childhood claustrophobia rise up.

"So it's all my fault?"

"_Yes_."

"And what did _I _do to make you act this way towards me? Seriously, Quinn, tell me." Rachel pushed herself off the wall, stepping closer to her. "Tell me what I'm doing to make you act this way towards me and I'll stop."

Quinn stared into her eyes, she was too _close_ again, and then her gaze dropped unwittingly as Rachel anxiously licked her lips. She could feel the pull of them, of _Rachel_, and it was so strong she couldn't handle it. She _wouldn't _handle it.

"I _can't_!" She didn't recognize the screech as her own voice as she pushed Rachel back, hard enough to make the buckets chime again. "Just leave me alone!"

Ripping the door open, she bolted out of the cupboard and just ran.

* * *

><p>Rachel was still completely bewildered by what had happened in the janitor's closet when she entered her fourth period Home Ec. class.<p>

Between first – which she'd been extremely late too much to her chagrin – and second period, most of Team-Berry had made a point of finding her and apologizing. They didn't sound sincere but she accepted them anyway, what else could she do? They were still more on her side than Quinn Fabray wanted to be.

She had no idea what had scared Quinn so badly that she'd run away. Was the prospect of even _trying _to be her friend really so daunting? And if so why had she been so angry at the thought of Rachel telling anyone that Quinn wanted nothing to do with her?

On the surface she told herself this was just one more reason why trying to be close to the cheerleader was a bad idea, but deep down she couldn't help worrying about her too. Either way, she wasn't going to let it deflect her from her plan to stay strong and ignore the blonde as best as she could.

So she groaned when she saw that a few of the opposing Glee members that usually _weren't_ in this class, were today. Mrs. Hagberg explained the reason why as she had them shuffle seats around to make room for everyone on the long benches. Thanks to a substitute teacher selfishly fleeing the school in tears at recess, two lessons had been joined together.

After an initial glance of surprise Quinn didn't look her way again. Typically, there was no one on Team-Berry in this class with her, but Finn was there. He gave her a lopsided 'hello' grin until Quinn dug her nails into his wrist and then, with a frown at his girlfriend, he looked away. Puck openly glared until Rachel took an end seat at the front bench, facing away from him.

The lesson was well underway without mishap when Mrs. Hagberg made it to her station at the end.

"Rachel, you cannot make a sponge cake without eggs and butter," the teacher argued with her.

"Then I'll make whatever I can make without eggs and butter," she replied.

"It will be inedible!"

"Half of the things we make in this class are inedible anyway," Rachel argued, her mixing arm displaying her determination to continue her own way, "but at least my creation will not have to rely on the exploitation of hens and cows to be so."

"Jeez, Manhands," it was a Cheerio who spoke but not Quinn. "Why can't you at least _try_ to be less of a freak?"

Rachel ignored her completely. It was true she wouldn't be able to make anything at all with just flour and sugar and vanilla essence but she already knew how to bake cookies and it wasn't as if this class was going to further her dreams of stardom; she had no plans to become a celebrity chef.

Eventually the teacher moved on.

"Noah, why is yours so watery? How much milk did you use?"

"Just the amount you said."

"Considering its consistency I find that hard to believe."

"That's because I added a pint of water."

"Why? That wasn't in the recipe."

"Back off, Teach, I know what I'm doing."

With a frustrated sigh the teacher left Puck to his own devices to check on the other students, though she did cast him a worried look when he started to use the electric hand whisk just a little too enthusiastically.

"That's good, Quinn. Finn, you forgot to sieve your flour didn't you? Brittany, you have to crack the eggs, you can't just put them in whole."

"But wouldn't that mean breaking them? My Mom doesn't like it when I break things in the kitchen."

"Okay, I'm done," Puck suddenly announced as the electric whisk stopped whirring.

"Okay, now pour it carefully into the baking tin."

Almost over the top of the teacher's instruction Rachel heard Finn say, "Uh, Puck, what are you doing?"

Despite being curious as to how the boy was messing up the simple act of filling a baking tin, Rachel refused to turn around. Not even when she heard a sharp intake of breath coming from Quinn's seat and several tittering Cheerios.

In hindsight, that was a stupid decision to make.

She felt something wet and heavy land on her hair and even as she was throwing her arms up to protect herself the large mixing bowl was rammed down on her head. It pinched the top of her ears and nearly obscured her vision. The gloopy wet mess then _did_ obscure her vision as it ran down her forehead and into her eyes.

"Puckerman, Figgins' office now!"

"Yeah, yeah!" A large hand clapped her on the shoulder, splattering the cake mix further still. "Payback's a bitch, huh Berry?"

Rachel didn't see him saunter off, it was some time before she managed to pry the bowl off with a wet pop and scoop enough of the sloppy mixture – extra runny thanks to the water – away from eyes. When she had, the only person she could see not laughing at her was Finn, the _only _person, because Quinn was laughing as hard as the rest of them. Even the teacher seemed to be barely containing a smile.

"You may go and clean up, Rachel."

"I may? How very charitable of you!" she glared at the teacher but refused to look at Quinn as she stormed out, even though she felt the cheerleader's eyes follow her from the room.

At least it hadn't been manure.

* * *

><p>Quinn saw Rachel again as soon as lunch started.<p>

She was walking towards her lockers with Santana and Brittany in their usual formation. Rachel was coming the other way with Tina and Artie.

Rachel's hair looked freshly washed – for the second time that day – in fact it was still damp and long, dark tendrils were curling over her shoulders. She'd removed her bright blue and white argyle sweater, presumably because when Quinn had seen her last the shoulders of it had been coated in creamy, disgusting gunk. The plain white t-shirt she'd been wearing beneath was just tight enough to cling to her modest curves.

Feeling a blush tinge her cheeks at noticing, Quinn averted her gaze for a few steps before turning back with a roll of her eyes; it was supposed to indicate exactly what she thought of the girl's 'protection detail' but her scorn was wasted when Rachel refused to make eye contact as they drew closer.

Neither trio slowed down nor changed course and Quinn made to barge straight between Rachel and Artie, shoulder checking the girl on the way, just to prove how easily she could get to her.

Rachel slipped to the side before their shoulders could connect, backing into Tina as Artie quickly rolled the other way and Quinn was smirking as the three indignant 'Hey!''s rose around her. She was already a few steps away when she heard a much louder "Hey!" and turned to see what Rachel was whining about now.

"Give that back!"

Santana had pulled Rachel's ridiculously girly pink backpack from her hand while she was distracted. "Make me."

"While your witty and oh so original rejoinder does provide exactly the right feel for such a juvenile prank as this I am going to have to insist, Santana, that you find some of what I can only imagine is your very deeply buried maturity and GIVE ME BACK MY BAG!"

Santana took a step closer. "Did you just insult me, Manhands?"

"She yelled at you too," Brittany helpfully pointed out.

Quinn kept this eye roll to herself but almost released another when Rachel backed down.

"I apologize, Santana, I would just like my bag back."

She could understand it, Santana could be scary . . . very scary . . . but now she smelled blood in the water it was just going to make her friend worse.

"Why do you want it so bad?"

"It's _my_ bag."

"So come and get it." Santana held it out to her.

Quinn couldn't see Rachel's face but she could tell her eyes were darting between Santana's and her bag, obviously weighing up how much chance she had of snatching it away. In the end she stupidly took the chance and dashed forwards.

"Nuh uh uh." Santana pulled the bag out of reach and smacked her palm into Rachel's forehead hard enough to knock her back a step. Quinn felt herself bristle at the contact. "It's not polite to rush someone. Say you're sorry and take it like a nice little troll."

They'd drawn a crowd again and Santana was playing to it like she always did. Why weren't Tina and Artie doing anything? They were standing there dumbly, well Artie was sitting but still. They might not have been able to do much physically, not against Santana, but they weren't even _saying_ anything to help their so-called friend.

Not that she was saying anything either, but she couldn't. She wasn't on stupid _Team-Berry._

Rachel didn't look around at the spectators, even though she could obviously see them, and her voice was perfectly calm as she said, "I apologize again, Santana." and took a slow step forward with her hand out.

"That's better, Stubbles."

Santana made as if to hand it over and then suddenly it was airborne, arching over Rachel's head. Quinn only just had the presence of mind to catch it or more to the point – because it pretty much just landed in her arms – not drop it.

This was so childish.

She should just give it back and tell them she was bored, or hungry.

She was about to until Rachel spun to face her, eyes flashing and wet hair whipping around her, teeth bared as she finally lost her composure and yelled, "GIVE IT BACK!" again.

Angry Berry was actually pretty freaking _hot_! Quinn felt her own composure slip and the only way she knew how to deal with it was to resort to her usual method of defence.

She threw the backpack back to Santana with a saccharine smile and a small "Oops!"

Rachel actually made a 'Grrr' sound as she turned back around and made the mistake of lunging for the backpack. It was over her head before she had a chance to throw up her arms.

The game of keep away went on for another few minutes with Brittany joining in too, although only when Quinn's throws went a little wide. Rachel had to be getting dizzy by now. Tina actually made a few attempts at snatching it out of the air, but she and Rachel just kept getting in each other's way.

"Okay, enough," Quinn finally said after Rachel stamped her foot – much to the spectators delight – and looked on the verge of frustrated tears – also to the spectators delight. "I'm hungry and I'm not wasting all of lunch on RuPaul."

"Fine, just a sec."

Quinn realized she should have waited until the bag was back in her hands before calling an end to the game because now Santana was ripping open the zipper.

"Don't!" Rachel snapped out.

"Hey, Britt, didn't you say you forgot your lunch? Try this instead."

Brittany caught the brown paper bag as it was thrown to her and enthusiastically opened it up. It always amazed Quinn how Brittany – one of the sweetest girls she knew – was always so quick to join in bullying Rachel Berry. But maybe it wasn't that surprising, with her and Santana as her role models.

Brittany was pulling out a sandwich now. It looked nice to Quinn, actually the lettuce and piccalilli almost made her mouth water – was this a craving kicking in? – but the tall Cheerio took one large mouthful and then pulled a face before spitting it into the trash can beside her.

"Yuck, I didn't like that." She balled up the bag and threw that into the trash too before taking a sip from her water bottle and spitting it out to clear the taste from her mouth.

"Hey, you could have let me have the rest of it!" Rachel snapped.

"Shut it, Manhands. What else have we got in here?" Santana threw a Biology textbook into the trash with barely a glance and then pulled out a small blue box. "Tampons, RuPaul? Wow, you really believe in getting into character don't you? Here, Puck, you probably have more use for them."

The jock, standing with the crowd, caught the box but dropped them with a yelp of disgust as soon as he realized what he was holding.

"Fuck off!" Quinn didn't know if he was talking to Santana or the tampons as he kicked them down the corridor to be lost in the feet of the crowd.

"What else do we have . . . Oh, score!"

As Santana held up a faux leather-bound book for everyone to see and Rachel made another frantic dash forward, Quinn guessed what it was. She burst forward too, trying to make it look like she was there to keep Rachel away by bumping into her and knocking her to the side.

"Give me that!" she said with a wide grin, snatching it from Santana's hands.

Santana didn't look upset; actually she looked pleased that Quinn was finally joining in again.

"Let's see what RuPaul's darkest desires are, shall we?" She flicked to a page at random but didn't let her eyes focus on the words.

"Quinn, please?" Rachel had tears on her cheeks and her eyes were pleading but Quinn couldn't stop this now, the best she could do was minimize the damage.

"Okay, hmm, February 12th: Hormone replacement therapy going well. Any day now my training bra will be for more than decoration!" Quinn looked up and saw the confusion in Rachel's eyes before mockingly dropping her own eyes to the girl's chest. "Yeah, don't bet on it, Berry."

She flipped forward some.

"Ooh, May 21st: Must remember to use the girl's bathroom. Almost got caught peeing in a urinal today! Note to self: Practice sitting and tucking."

Laughter was echoing up and down the halls. She caught Rachel's eye again and while the girl looked beyond mortified and still angry she wasn't crying any more.

Quinn decided to select one more entry before declaring the journal boring and giving it back, she hadn't read a single actual word yet, eyes just skimming the lines in pretence, but she accidentally made the mistake of flicking to one of the last entries in the journal. Despite her best efforts her own name sprang off of the page several times.

"I, uh, September 20th: . . ." she tried to come up with something to say. "Finn got really close to me today when we were dancing. I hope he couldn't. . ."

She faltered even though the fake line was on the tip of her tongue.

_. . . I wish she wasn't the way she was. If Quinn was just pretty I could count this as no more than a misguided physical attraction and move on, but now I know she's so much more than that deep down. _

_The times Quinn and I have spent alone together – some of them anyway – I see a girl I can trust and respect and more. If only Quinn was like that all of the time, but I don't imagine she ever will be now, not with me at least, and I hate how much that hurts._

". . . Uh, feel my, uh . . ."

_And that makes me hate how I feel about her. I hate that my heart starts racing every time I see her. I hate that my palms sweat when I see her name online. I hate that I can't pick a song for this week's Glee assignment because every one I listen to somehow reminds me of Quinn. I hate that I can't change the way she feels about me. Most of all I just hate myself for letting this foolish crush get so far under my skin._

"Spit it out, Q!" Santana snapped.

Quinn jerked her eyes from the page. She could only have been reading a few seconds but the crowd was getting impatient and she could see by her friend's eyes she was ready to snatch the book back.

"Sorry, it's just that boring I zoned out." She resumed her fake reading. "I, uh, hope he couldn't feel my erection through my skirt . . ."

_It's not like I ever expect Quinn to return my feelings, but it does feel like sometimes we're meant to be more than this, more than enemies, more than two girls thrown together by circumstance and Glee club. Sometimes it feels as if . . . as if we might just possibly BELONG in each others lives in a heroic, unforgettable – if ultimately tragic – life altering way and is it my fault that I so badly want to search for some form of acknowledgement of that same belief from Quinn? _

_I know it's insanity and even the prospect of us being friends is so far out of my reach it might as well be on Mars, but what I wouldn't do – there is NOTHING I wouldn't do for Quinn Fabray if it meant she would reward me with . . ._

'_With-with-with . . .!' _Quinn turned the page in a hurry, but Rachel's fingers closed tightly around the top of it as she did, blocking out most of the first sentence apart from the last word.

… _again._

Again? What again?

She let Rachel snatch the book away and blocked Santana from making another grab for it.

"Seriously, it's not worth the eye strain."

Then she flicked her eyes up to the top of the lockers and Santana got the message, throwing the backpack up there out of Rachel's reach; its remaining contents spilling through the open zipper to scatter across the locker tops.

"Hey, don't!"

Better late than never . . . _not_. Quinn rolled her eyes again as Mike pushed through the other students to get to Rachel's side.

"A little late for the Knight in Shining Armor routine, Chang," she snapped.

"Just back off," he snapped back at her, making her raise a 'are you seriously speaking to me like that' eyebrow. He ignored it, turning to Rachel. "You okay? I just heard what happened in Home Ec."

"Yes, thank you, Mike. As you can see I am physically none the worse for wear. Quinn was just falsifying my innermost thoughts." She was hugging the diary to her chest and shooting nervous looks at her.

She'd have felt more guilty if the only entry she'd read hadn't been all about her. Now Mike was glaring daggers at her too and she was seriously getting pissed off with his attitude.

"Artie, can you give me a leg up?"

Mike gestured the other boy forward and Artie rolled up to the lockers, looking grateful that he could actually do something now. Mike balanced carefully on the edges of the wheelchair, one foot either side of Artie's legs so they didn't tip, and started scooping Rachel's belongings back into her backpack.

Quinn glowered at him when he jumped down and handed it to Rachel. "There you go."

She smiled as she stowed her journal back inside. "Thank you, Mike."

Quinn glowered more seeing that smile. If looks could kill Mike Chang would be seizing on the floor and crapping his pants right now.

"They t-t-threw Rachel's s-sandwiches away too."

Mike switched his smile to Tina for a second before turning to Rachel again, now completely ignoring the three most popular girls in the school and everyone else still watching the show. "In that case, can I buy you lunch?"

"You have got to be kidding me," Quinn muttered under her breath. _She _was the one who'd just saved Rachel from-from, fine _herself, whatever, _so why was _he_ getting the stupid doe eyes and that ridiculously coy smile?

"While I greatly appreciate the offer, you don't have to do that."

He shrugged shyly. "Can I anyway?"

Quinn was surprised she didn't actually throw up right there in the hall as her morning sickness suddenly hit her extra hard. It was because she hadn't eaten lunch yet, that was all, and now everyone was talking about food and . . .

She didn't even believe it herself as she ran to the nearest restroom with her hand over her mouth, only thankful that most of the gawping teens had already wandered off to get their own meals once Mike had shut down the show.

She left the stall door unlocked as she fell to her knees, partly because she didn't have time to lock it anyway, but also it would save her from having to reach around mid-hurl again when Rachel came to see if she was okay.

* * *

><p>Rachel watched Quinn run off with distraught eyes. Despite the way things were between them right now, even despite everything she had endured that day at Quinn's hands, her first instinct was to chase after the blonde, make sure she was okay and offer what comfort she, or her clothes, could.<p>

That wasn't the way forward though. She couldn't get over Quinn if she kept running after her and making herself a doormat. And she really needed to get over Quinn Fabray.

Her feet were still itching to tear down the halls to the bathroom until she caught Santana's mocking eyes. For once, though, it didn't appear to be her they were mocking.

"I wonder what's up with, Q." She ran her smirk over all four of them, obviously including them in the joke, before grinning at Brittany, "Think it was something she screwed?"

"I always thought having sex with Finn would make someone sick," Brittany giggled.

"She's your friend!" Rachel blurted before she could stop herself.

"What's it to you, Stubbles?" Santana sneered.

"How can you talk about your friend like that?"

"You think she wouldn't be saying the same about us if we'd been stupid enough to get in her position? Please, Berry, you, of all people, should know better."

With that Santana turned on her heel, linking pinkies with Brittany as they walked off together.

Rachel fumed after them for a second before Tina broke into her angry thoughts.

"So shall we go t-to lunch?"

"Yeah, I'm hungry," Artie said, turning himself towards the cafeteria.

"I just need to go to my locker. Why don't you go on and get a table."

And Mike added, "We'll be there in a sec."

She'd actually been hoping Mike would go with them because she still wanted to go and find Quinn even if she knew it was silly. He stayed with her though as she put her books away.

He shyly took her hand as they walked towards the lunch room and it felt really nice. His hand was soft – not as soft as Puckerman's though – and warm and it fit hers nicely and she couldn't deny that having a football player want to hold her hand was doing wonders for her self-esteem, but . . . she'd still rather be holding Quinn's hair back instead.

* * *

><p>Rachel would come.<p>

Rachel always came.

Quinn sat with her back against the side of the stall for long after the urgency to throw up had left and only the nausea remained. She just didn't want to admit it and leaving the bathroom would do that. She wanted to hold on to the hope that she hadn't blown the only respite she had, that she hadn't blown a lot more than that probably too.

Rachel wasn't coming.

And she wasn't coming because she hated her.

Quinn couldn't even argue her case because she had spent years giving Rachel cause to hate her. She'd just never thought she'd have cause to _regret_ that until now.

'_But what I wouldn't do –_there is NOTHING I wouldn't do for Quinn Fabray if it meant she would reward me with_ . . . again.'_

What did Rachel want _again_? That had to be the ticket to Quinn fixing this. And she did want to fix it. Not because she thought they could be friends, exactly, or even anything else. Definitely not anything else because she didn't _want_ that. But, with her stomach still churning she needed some kind of relief, and Berry was that relief.

Quinn needed to _something_ to get her back.

* * *

><p>Last period that day was gym and Rachel disliked it for many reasons.<p>

First of all it was unnecessary for her. She received more than enough physical exercise through her morning workout routine, her many dance classes and of course Glee rehearsals. Plus with her healthy diet she didn't need to play volleyball to burn up excess calories.

Second, whatever sport they were currently expected to engage in, the Cheerios in her gym class – which included, as luck would have it, Santana, Brittany and Quinn this semester – would use it to humiliate or hurt her. In field hockey it was a sharp whack around the ankles with a hockey stick. In tennis it was a ball in the groin. In athletics it was her face pushed in the long jump sand or debilitating comments about her underwear as she attempted to do the high jump. In volleyball, as it had been today, it was a foam ball powered into her upturned face so hard by Santana's fist that she was seeing triple for two minutes.

Quinn had done nothing to torment her during this period, it was true, and didn't even laugh when she wobbled all over the place from Santana's direct hit, but that was probably only because the pregnant girl looked like she was about to be sick at any second.

Rachel had watched her disappear into the bathrooms at the back almost as soon as they'd all traipsed into the locker room but she hadn't gone after her, not in front of everyone.

At least Mercedes and Tina were both in her gym class and after spending lunch with Tina and Artie and Mike, not as part of some forced Team-Berry meeting but actually just eating lunch together, she was feeling like Tina was maybe her friend for real now and Mercedes liked Tina so . . .

It made her feel a little bit safer than normal as she timed stripping down to enter the showers with the two of them so that they could all go through it together. She knew they were both as uncomfortable as she was with the forced humiliation of communal showers and it felt nice for a change to not go through it alone. Hopefully they were gaining some measure of comfort from her camaraderie too.

She was down to her panties and training bra when, from her perspective, all hell broke loose.

She was picked up from behind by a tall blonde. She mistook the assailant for Brittany to begin with until her thrashing to get loose tipped her head back far enough that she could see it was Kassie Witter, another tall blonde Cheerio.

"What are you doing? Let me go!" she yelled as she struggled in her grip.

She saw Tina step up but she was barged out of the way by Santana as Quinn's second in command surged around them to grab Rachel's legs, preventing her from kicking Kassie's shins.

She heard Mercedes say, "Oh no, get the hell off of . . ."

But she was cut off and Rachel just caught a glimpse of Brittany's hand over her mouth.

"Shh, you'll just make it worse."

Make it worse? Rachel's eyes frantically met Brittany's as she tried to determine what worse was coming but she lost sight of her as she was literally carried away. She really began to panic when they hauled her through the doors of the locker room and out into the halls.

Realizing instantly where they were planning to take her, she started to scream for a teacher until Kassie's hand slapped over her mouth, silencing her.

* * *

><p>Quinn was throwing up in the restroom off of the locker room as quietly as possible. She knew anyone coming in would hear her but if she could just stop the loud retching noises from reaching beyond these tiled walls that was something.<p>

The morning sickness that had taken her over at lunch hadn't left all afternoon, or at least the nausea hadn't. She made it through the classes, even gym, although it had been touch and go a few times – especially when she'd seen the volley ball smack straight into Rachel's nose – but she'd held it together. Until now anyway.

She was making some extremely disturbing and very loud gurgling noises when she first heard the shout.

Rachel!

But she couldn't exactly press pause on the next train from her stomach. Leaning over the toilet she listened to more distressing sounds from the locker room – even more distressing than the ones she was currently making – but all she could do for a minute was breathe heavy and dry heave while she willed herself to stop shaking enough to stand up.

By the time she staggered back out into the locker room it was to a mix of shocked hush and giggles. Quinn's eyes darted around, seeking the only person that mattered right now.

"Where's Berry?" She was surprised and pleased her voice came out so cool and yet still dangerous.

"Santana said she was in the wrong locker room," Brittany said, and even though Quinn knew the girl so well she couldn't tell if her innocent look was real or not. "She just wanted to help her be true to herself."

"What does that mean?"

She glared at Mercedes and Tina, who both just shrank back on themselves instead of being helpful. She'd have rolled her eyes if she had the time.

"Where is she?"

None of the Cheerios were speaking up, but a girl, somewhere about halfway up the social ladder, gave a nervous chuckle. "I think they were taking her into the boy's locker room."

She'd pretty much already guessed but she'd needed it confirmed before she went running in there herself.

She bolted to the door in a fury just as Santana and Kassie came back in laughing.

"Hey, Q, you'll never guess . . ."

She ran straight through her best friend, knocking her against the wall without a second thought. Ignoring the girl's angry protests, she charged up the hallway to the boy's locker room. Just before she reached the door Rachel came out, dripping wet and with Mike's letterman jacket around her shoulders. The girl looked traumatized and her feet just stopped dead when she saw Quinn.

Quinn slapped the wall and dug her toes into the floor to bring herself to a stop too. "Why are you wet?"

"Santana and Kassie ran through the showers and dropped her right in the middle."

She was surprised to hear her boyfriend's voice and looked up to see Finn hovering behind Rachel and Mike, wrapped only in a towel around his waist. He was glaring at her like it was her fault.

"I didn't know this was happening," she said, more weakly than she cared for.

"Sure you didn't," Mike sneered and Finn backed him up with that glare.

Chang's arm was protectively around Rachel's shoulders and she wanted to rip it off and beat that_ look _off of _her _boyfriend's face with it.

She found a little more steel to put her in voice. "I didn't!"

"Quinn's right. She wasn't even in the room." Rachel came to her rescue but couldn't seem to look at her.

"Rachel, are you okay?"

"No, I'm mortified, humiliated, embarrassed, and I know they all mean the same thing but I want to drive home just how _much _I am feeling them. Also my butt hurts from being dropped on the tile floor and I don't think I'll ever be able to sleep again without being plagued with nightmares about penises."

Rachel finally met her eyes with a haunted look. "So many penises, Quinn!"

Quinn couldn't help her lips quirking in a smile. "Think of all that fantasy material."

Rachel shook her head seriously. "I'll never be able to look one in the eye again. Not that I ever have before . . . until today . . . Oh Barbra!"

Quinn didn't know how seriously to take her freak out, until Rachel met her eyes again and her lips turned up in the smallest of shy smiles.

"I don't think I want to see another penis as long as I live after that."

"Well, Santana does work in mysterious ways." The words and the accompanying grin were out before Quinn could check them.

Mike and Finn were staring between her and Rachel, clearly uncomfortable about the topic of conversation but also not knowing how to take the amicable tone they were sharing all of a sudden.

"I can't go back into the locker room," Rachel said quietly. "I know I need to hold my head up high right now but . . ."

"It's fine, Rach." Both boys tensed too as she stepped forward but only Rachel's reaction hurt her.

She stopped a foot away and settled for shaking her head like she didn't know what she was saying. Mercedes and Tina appearing in the hall behind her gave her an opportunity to get her cool aloofness back and she started to snap out instructions.

"Berry, go to the bathroom down the hall and dry off. Finn, go back in there and make sure none of your pervert team-mates snapped any pictures of her with their phones . . . " She heard Rachel curse under her breath at the thought of it. "Mike . . ." _Wither and die! _". . . Go with her and stand outside to make sure no one follows her in. And I mean _stand outside_! She doesn't need another _dick_ in her life right now."

Seeing Rachel's tiny scandalized grin, Quinn had to turn aside before she gave herself away by grinning too. So she missed Mike's glare but she could still feel it piercing the back of her head before he turned away to walk Rachel to the bathroom.

That just left her with her two fellow female Gleeks, and Jesus, if she hadn't been waiting for an opportunity like this.

_Don't bring me into this!_

'_Just wait and see.'_

"Don't come here, I'll come to you."

"What?" Mercedes asked with her usual bored-sounding flippancy.

Quinn was already striding towards them. "I said . . ." She backed Mercedes into the wall without touching her and smirked. ". . . I'll come to you." Without taking her eyes from Mercedes' suddenly worried ones she added, "Tina, _huddle_."

The shy girl automatically came closer despite a strong urge for self-preservation. She didn't have any choice. When Quinn Fabray told you to do something, you kind of did it.

"Now I'm going to ask you only once. What happened in there?"

"You know what happened," Mercedes began. "Your Cheerio friends carried Rachel out and that's all we know."

"And why didn't you step in?" she growled. "You're supposed to be her friends!"

"We tried!"

"We d-did!

Quinn stepped back, honestly surprised, but it didn't lessen her anger. "Well, you obviously didn't try very hard considering Rachel's in the bathroom now probably crying her eyes out!"

The two girls both looked a little ashamed, but not enough to appease her.

Mercedes next words definitely didn't appease her. "Why do you care, anyway? You hate Rachel. At least we pretend to like her."

Quinn actually wanted to strangle her with her bare hands; it was only knowing Tina was a witness that stopped her.

"I might detest the ground she walks on," Quinn gritted out, "But what Santana did is sexual harassment and whatever you say you both let it happen."

She gave them a moment to let that sink in.

"Now go and get her clothes and bring them to me, and if either one of you utters a word to any girl in that locker room it'll be _me_ _personally _making yourlives hell from now on."

They both scurried through the door and Quinn took the opportunity to lean against the wall and just breathe until they re-emerged a few minutes later.

She almost took the neatly folded pile of clothes from Tina's hands but then realized she couldn't deliver them. Rachel wouldn't want her in the room with her and Quinn really didn't need to see her dripping wet in her underwear.

"Take them to her. She's in the bathroom back there; you'll see Mike waiting outside." Once Tina had hurried off she turned to Mercedes. "Tell Mr. Schuester that Santana, Brittany and I won't be able to make Glee this afternoon."

"Why not?"

"I'm calling an emergency Cheerios practice," was her dark response.

* * *

><p>"Quinn, it's raining," Brittany pointed out petulantly, like Quinn holding a Cheerios umbrella over her head wasn't a clue that she was already aware of that.<p>

She was the only one who had an umbrella, the rest of the squad – all the female sophomores on the squad anyway – were starting to drip from the moderate downfall.

"Yeah, Q, what's this about?"

She glared at Santana. "What's this about? What do you think it's about? It's about that _stunt _you pulled after Gym!"

"What about it?" Kassie asked. "It was funny."

Several of the girls laughed, backing her up.

"No, it was a lawsuit!"

"Berry's not going to say anything to her Dads," Santana sneered. "She never does."

Quinn had half a mind to call them herself to fill them in but she didn't voice that out loud.

"She might this time and even if she doesn't she could still go to Figgins."

"She won't. She's knows we'll just get her back worse."

"And you can say the same for the twenty or so witnesses, can you? Mercedes and Tina for example?"

Santana shrugged, "They're terrified of us too."

"Mike? Finn? They're not and you have no idea how pissed off they are about this."

"Well, if you can't keep your boyfriend in line, Quinn," Kassie scoffed, "that's not our problem."

"Do you want to see me make it your problem?"

She stepped forward, angry enough that she didn't even care that Kassie was a head taller than her. It wouldn't matter anyway, she was so furious she didn't doubt she would wipe that smug sneer from her face with a single punch.

When Kassie moved forward too, Santana stepped between them and even though they were on opposite sides of this Quinn knew the she had done it for her sake.

"Why are you suddenly on Team-Berry anyway?" Santana rolled her eyes as she realized she'd just used that lame name. "Since when is messing with her off limits?"

"I'm not on _Team-Berry; _I'm on the Cheerios and we have Homecoming at the end of the week. You all know Coach Sylvester likes to use the game to launch our competition season! If any of you are suspended because of Manhands we will look incompetent. And if we look incompetent _I_ will look bad. And I am not going to look bad because you morons don't know the difference between funny and stupid." She tipped the umbrella back a little so that they could all see how serious she was. "Now get running. Coach gave me permission to give you all twenty laps of the track and no one gets out of the rain until they're finished."

"But Coach Sylvester isn't even out here," Charity whined.

"Are you sure about that?" Quinn nodded to where a shadowy figure was lurking just inside the open doors to the tunnel.

That was a pure stroke of luck because she hadn't mentioned a word of this to the Coach, but the skulking woman would never discourage extra fitness training and it added some nice weight to her authority. In turn, Quinn could practically feel her own status points clocking up as her ruthless leadership was spied upon.

As one by one the sophomore Cheerios began jogging towards the track, Santana and Brittany remained behind out of habit. When Quinn got out of something, they got out of it too. It was in the BFF handbook.

But not this time.

"I said everyone."

"You've got to be shitting me!"

Her glare told Santana she wasn't and, grumbling threats and shooting nervous glances at the figure beyond the bleachers respectively, she and Brittany ran to join the others.

Quinn let out a sigh. This wasn't half of the punishment she wanted to dish out to them but it would do. If she made it too personal she'd have to face even more questions about her motives.

Finn quietly joined her as she watched the girls make their sixth lap, causing her to jump slightly at his sudden presence. He was holding his letterman jacket over his head and she offered him the umbrella so that he could keep them both dry.

"I'd have made them run it backwards."

"I thought about making them do it on their hands and knees but I didn't want to be out here for hours waiting for them to finish."

He chuckled appreciatively. "Mike took Rachel home. She didn't want to go to Glee."

Quinn shrugged like she didn't care. "Can I borrow your phone? Mine's in my locker and I need to text my Mom that I'm going to be late for dinner."

"Sure." He fished it out of his pocket and handed it over. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to accuse you like that. It's just . . . with Santana involved I assumed . . ."

"It's okay; you were just worried about Rachel."

She scrolled through his phone and found the number she was looking for. A part of her was angry that he even _had_ hernumber on his cell phone, despite the fact that she was counting on it, but she honestly wouldn't be surprised if he already had it saved to speed dial too.

"Are you okay with that?" he asked.

"You thinking the worst of me because of her? No, Finn, not really."

She typed her message.

_It's Quinn. Are you okay? x_

"I'm sorry. She just looked so scared when they dropped her in there. And you kind of have been on her case even more than usual recently."

"She's trying to steal you from me, Finn. Would you prefer it if I just sat back and let her?"

"No of _course_ not, but . . . it's not like you have anything to worry about. I love you."

It didn't even sound real coming from his lips and she knew she couldn't say it back, not today at least.

"Yeah."

The phone beeped and she opened the message.

_I appreciate your concern Quinn, and I do not wish to be rude, but I'm afraid I must ask you to kindly leave me alone. I really cannot handle any more today. Rachel x_

She read the message twice before deleting it. Then she went into the 'Sent' folder and deleted her own message too before handing the phone back.

"Everything cool?" Finn asked as he shoved it back in his pocket.

"Not really."

He put his arm around her neck and his wet sleeve made her shiver but she leaned into his offer of comfort anyway. What other option did she have?


	27. I Plead Insanity

Thanks for all the reviews/messages/comments on the last chapter - there were some good points come up and I wish I had the time to respond to all of them. As it is though, I haven't even had the time to read through the whole of chapter 27 yet, so this is just half of it, the second half to follow in the next day or so.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Seven:<strong>

**I Plead Insanity**

Quinn saw Mike walking through the halls towards her first thing Tuesday morning and he scowled as they were about to pass each other.

Luckily she'd come prepared.

She left him spluttering, teeth chattering and dripping raspberry-flavored ice.

Feeling so much better already she gave one of the glossy posters that had appeared on the walls over night an identical toothy smile and dropped the empty cardboard cup into a trash can without slowing down.

* * *

><p>Rachel sat up straight, staring ahead with a neutral expression when Quinn took her seat next to her in American Lit. It wasn't going to be easy to get through the lesson with the hostility between them but she had a plan to survive: ignore Quinn at all costs and the tried and tested, no looking, no talking, no touching rules.<p>

It occurred to her that each time the rules had been tested they'd proved less than infallible but this was plan B after all and couldn't be expected to be perfect. Plan A had fallen through when her Daddy had declared she did not in fact have a temperature and a slight case of the sniffles – of which he had seen no evidence of yet – was not a good enough reason to take time off of school.

'_No looking, no talking, no touching,' _she repeated in her head a few times to make it sink in.

She shouldn't have been surprised that she was already having trouble with that first one. Who wouldn't want to feast their eyes on Quinn Fabray at every opportunity? She stayed strong though. It was the only way.

"Hi."

The quiet greeting nearly made her break rule two but she bit her lip until the urge passed.

"It's polite to say Hi back, you know?"

Rachel scoffed and then bit her lip again hard. Did that count as breaking a rule? She hadn't actually said anything.

"You're not talking to me again?"

What gave it away?

"I had nothing to do with what Santana and Kassie did after Gym, you do know that, right?"

Quinn sounded so concerned that, even though Rachel knew it was insincere, she couldn't help nodding. The head cheerleader's horrified reaction after the event had convinced her that the lesser Cheerios had acted alone, but Quinn was far from innocent when it came to tormenting her. In fact, she'd paved the way for what had happened yesterday with her previous three years of abuse.

"So, you don't really hate me, right? This is just you being a little pissed?"

Rachel didn't respond. Obviously she didn't hate her but she was _more_ than a little pissed!

"Will you just say something? Anything? Yell at me if you want."

While yelling might relieve some of her tension, she couldn't do it in _class_ which Quinn knew and was probably the only reason she'd suggested it. No doubt she was expecting Rachel to back down because of the selflessness of her offer but she wasn't stupid. She saw right through Quinn Fabray now and she wasn't going to be fooled again.

"Fine, don't speak to me, but you can't stop me from speaking to you."

Rachel groaned inwardly and made sure her face betrayed her thoughts – why couldn't she just leave her alone?

To her delight Mr. Laxforth finally started the lesson, meaning Quinn would have to be quiet. She allowed herself a small smile when she heard the other girl grumble under her breath.

"Okay, no new chapter today, but I have a worksheet on the previous two chapters so I hope you've all been paying attention."

Rachel's smile left quickly because she hadn't been paying attention. The only thing she paid attention to in American Literature these days was Quinn. It seemed typical of her luck that the one time she was completely focused on listening to the reading, there wasn't going to be one.

Mr. Laxforth handed a stack of papers to each student in the front row of desks. "You may work on them quietly with the person sat next to you."

Rachel groaned out loud this time and it was Quinn's turn to smile.

Now she had to break rule two, because she was sure Quinn would know all of the answers that she didn't and she wasn't going to fail the stupid worksheet because of this. That would only mean that Quinn had won another battle of their ongoing war.

Quinn took the papers as they were handed back and gave the last one to her. It was half an inch thick! Would the school nurse believe her fake symptoms more than her Daddy had? Since Mrs. Schuester had been fired they'd only had temps in to fill the spot; surely they couldn't be good enough to tell she was faking, not with her acting skills.

"You know, if I wasn't trying to be nice, I would really be taking advantage of how uncomfortable you are right now."

Rachel gave up on rule two but kept rule one, and obviously three, intact as she opened the work sheets. "Why _are_ you trying to be nice? Surely it must be painful for you?"

"You are making it pretty painful."

"Good. Give up then, please."

"Stop being a baby."

"I'm completely serious. At least when you're being nasty I know where I stand."

"I deserve that."

"And more."

"You haven't been very nice the last week either."

"It's simply been self-preservation, and utterly justifiable."

"Whatever."

"A resounding argument, Quinn. Can we concentrate on the lesson now please?" It was a little too mumbled to be successful sarcasm, but she was still proud of the attempt.

"No."

Rachel ignored that and bent over question one. She actually knew the answer and wrote it in the space provided without conferring with the girl beside her.

"I just want to talk to you, Rachel."

Rachel's heart skipped a beat. Just weeks ago . . . who was she fooling, just _days_ ago those words would have knocked down her defenses so fast she probably would have swooned cartoon-like to the ground with them. Even said in the small confused way, with the tiny frown creasing Quinn's forehead, like she really didn't mean to be saying these words or any like them _at all_, they were tempting.

Very tempting . . . and that was what set the alarm bells ringing. Quinn had only said she wanted to _talk _to her and already she was leaping towards forgiveness? For all she knew Quinn wanted to talk about another fabulous plan that would secretly sabotage Glee club, or more ways in which she could publicly warn her away from Finn. It was _Quinn_, pleasant conversation between them was only ever a means to a bitter-tasting end.

Still, it couldn't hurt to _ask_, right? There was no harm in that.

"W-what about?"

Quinn shrugged, shoulders rising and falling nonchalantly, "You know, stuff."

Stuff? What kind of stuff? The lack of a specific topic made Rachel nervous; small talk was something she associated even less with Quinn Fabray than pleasant conversation. Talk designed to make her feel small, yes that was very Quinn, but small talk itself?

They'd talked more in the last few weeks than they ever had before, but they still weren't 'small talk' buddies in her limited opinion. When they spoke, even the tiniest thing seemed to become hugely significant – at least in her mind, she was sure Quinn felt differently – and now 'stuff' was doing exactly that.

"Could you be a little . . ."

Quinn glanced over out of the corner of her eye and interrupted, "So did you pick a song for this week's assignment yet?"

"The Kelly Clarkson one?" It was a needless question, it wasn't like they had another assignment, but she was still feeling thrown by Quinn's, well, sudden niceness. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? Either you picked one or you didn't?"

"I'm still deciding."

"Have you narrowed it down?"

Now she thought she knew where this was going and she felt insulted, "If you think I'm going to tell you my song choice so that you can sing it first and make me look foolish . . ."

"I'm not going to do that! Why would I . . .?" It appeared as though Quinn answered her own question because she trailed off again, re-inking the lines of her doodle – it ws two interlinking hearts, she noticed. "I was just curious."

"Oh." She side-eyed her suspiciously for a second or two, before finally taking her words at face value. "Okay, well, honestly I've been going back and forth on a couple actually. I think '_Since You've Been Gone' _would sum up my current mood best . . ."

"Why? _I'm_ not going anywhere." The smile Quinn was giving her was disconcerting, so cocky and teasing, that Rachel tripped over a hasty rebuttal.

"It's, um, why, I mean, it wouldn't be about _you_, I mean, why would it? It's not like . . ."

"I _know_ that." The smile was gone. "It was just a joke."

"Oh." She sighed silently in relief, because of course it would have been about Quinn, what wasn't these days, but the thought of Quinn _knowing _that was horrible given how things were between them now. "I'm too late anyway, Tina sang it yesterday, didn't she?"

Another shrug while Quinn put the finishing touches to her new doodle – a skull and crossbones? The hearts encased in the top of the skull. It was as unsettling as the conversation they were having.

"I don't know, I didn't attend Glee yesterday either."

"Oh, how come?" She hoped Quinn wasn't starting to slack off; everyone needed to be in tiptop shape with the competition season fast approaching.

"It was a Cheerios thing."

"You don't normally have cheerleading practice on a Monday afternoon."

Quinn glared at her, "I didn't say it was practice. Anyway, it has nothing to do with you."

"Of course not, sorry. I'm sure it was important if you had to miss Glee for it."

As the mood appeared to have changed between them once again, Rachel found it prudent to turn her attention back to the work sheet, it wasn't like _she'd_ wanted to talk anyway.

She'd barely had time to read the next question however before Quinn's mood changed again, her voice light and teasing once more as she casually asked, "So, anyway, aren't you going to congratulate me?"

"On remaining civil for nearly five minutes?" she asked sarcastically before she could stop herself.

Quinn let that go with a smirk and, "I think it was closer to ten, actually, but I was talking about my nomination."

It only took her a moment to understand. She'd heard the news over the school tanoy system the day before but had been too preoccupied with her own unlooked for drama to pay it much heed, but this morning posters bearing all four photographs of the female selection for the Homecoming court had sprung up across the school – and naturally she'd noticed Quinn's face shining the brightest among them.

"Congratulating you on being nominated a Homecoming Princess is like congratulating me on being able to sing Baa Baa Black Sheep without hitting a bum note – something I've been able to do since I was eight months old, incidentally. I honestly think the more surprising thing is that they bothered to waste time and effort nominating a further three people."

Quinn beamed at her, "Thank you."

It hadn't really been meant as a compliment, just a statement of fact, but Rachel was blinded by the wide smile and so didn't point it out.

"I assume, in that case, I can count on your vote?" There was that teasing, almost flirtacious tone again.

She was a great believer in democracy and the whole electoral and voting system, but she wasn't a great believer in popularity contests. Just because Quinn was so pretty all of the girls wanted to be her and all of the boys wanted to date her shouldn't mean she was automatically entitled to rule the school as Homecoming Queen – a ruler should have substance, integrity and shouldn't be as mean as Quinn was capable of being without reason . . .

But when Quinn looked at her like that and spoke to her like this . . . well, Rachel wouldn't just vote for her, she'd gladly bow down to her forever. Except . . .

"I'm given to believe the voting takes place at the Homecoming dance and I don't think I'll be going. Nobody's asked me and attending school dances stag has only ever led to extra ridicule so . . ." she was rambling and she knew it. She even knew why, even if it was stupid, but if there was any tiny chance that Quinn might invite her . . .

"Voting opens on Thursday morning, actually, so you can vote for me without going to the dance."

. . . but of course there never had been any chance of _that_.

Now realizing Quinn's friendliness had only ever been about getting her vote, Rachel found her strength to resist her untrustworthy charms return.

"I don't think you've done much to earn my allegiance recently . . . or ever."

Quinn sighed noisily and added a few more strokes to her doodle, it was now taking up a quarter of a page, the skull sprouting a speech bubble which read: _Go big or die trying._

"What does that mean?"

"What does what . . .?" Quinn seemed to realize her art was on full display and closed her notebook with a soft thwap. "Nothing. Look . . ." Quinn's fingers were sqeezing her pen so tight the tips were turning a pinkish white. "I know things have been . . . _weird_ between us recently." That was the understatement of the year. "But, you know . . . I want to make it up to you."

That got her attention. "Make what up to me?"

"I don't know, whatever bug is up your ass right now."

Rachel actually broke rule one properly for the first time since Quinn had insisted they 'talk' because that warranted a solid glare.

Quinn smirked, "Wrong answer?"

"Yes!" Rachel turned back to her work sheets.

Quinn finally sounded frustrated as she said, "Look, Berry, I'm trying to make nice. Tell me how and I'll do it."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

Rachel rolled her eyes as she glared at her again. "Why are you trying to be nice? What's in it for you?"

Quinn stared at her for a second before concentrating on her own worksheets. "I need a reason?"

"From past experience, yes."

Quinn wrote in the answer to the first three questions before she replied – Rachel had only just looked at question two! – and when she did she kept her face turned away.

"I need you."

The three simple words sent Rachel's brain into overdrive, they were everything she wanted to hear but she knew it couldn't be that simple. In her excitement and simultaneous alarm she forgot herself.

"WHAT?"

Several people, actually nearly everyone, looked over to them, making her realize she'd stopped using her indoor voice. Quinn glared at her and so Rachel covered.

"THAT'S NOT THE ANSWER!"

"Girls, a little less vocal please," Mr. Laxforth said from the front of the room. "This isn't drama class."

Rachel apologized for her outburst and ducked her head down before muttering, "What could you possibly need me for?"

In answer Quinn placed a full box of handkerchiefs on the desk.

Rachel deflated even though she'd _known_ it would be something like this. "No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean, _no_! I can't. I need . . . I need . . ." _To get over you! _". . . to stop being your servant-girl; you do nothing to earn it and it's demeaning and . . ."

"You're not . . ."

"Of course I am. After all, you've made it quite clear you do not wish to be my friend."

Quinn was glaring at her again but she looked . . . scared? Her voice was barely a murmur as she answered, "I also made clear why."

"No you didn't."

"Do you want it written in the freaking sky, Berry?"

Rachel's eyebrows twitched up in confusion. "Do I want what written in the sky?"

"That I . . ." Quinn stopped her angry retort and looked down at her worksheet. "Never mind. Maybe we can be friends, if you want."

Rachel gave her heart a few seconds to soar before she dragged it back down to earth. "And do you mean that or are you just saying it because it'll make me wash your handkerchiefs?"

She watched Quinn's mouth open a couple of times as if about to answer, but then she closed it firmly and filled in questions four and five instead.

Rachel found herself dying to hear whatever Quinn had been about to say, "Well?"

"God, I thought we were _already_ friends or something!" Quinn muttered harshly without raising her head. "Whatever."

"Forming an emotional attachment to my fabric softener doesn't make us friends, Quinn. It just makes me a pusher and you an abuser – which is quite an apt term when you think about it – and the healthiest thing I can do for either of us right now is cut you off cold turkey."

"Rachel, please?" Quinn pushed the box across the desk towards her.

Rachel pushed it back. "I said no."

"It's the only thing that helps!"

"There are other ways to alleviate morning sickness."

"But you're the only one that works for me!" Quinn shook her head and looked down again. "I mean your fabric softener."

"I know what you meant, and my answer is still no."

This was so hard. Rachel just wanted to give in. She wanted nothing more than to take the handkerchiefs and run home right away to wash them for her. She knew she was hurting Quinn by refusing to help, but what choice did she have? If she helped Quinn she would only end up hurting herself and Quinn wouldn't care about _that_.

She had to stay strong so she pushed the box back towards her again.

"I'm sorry; I can't indulge this misuse of my generosity anymore. I've gone out of my way to be of aid to you in the past and it has only led me to me being . . . disappointed."

She'd nearly said _heartbroken. _Thankfully she'd been able to stop herself. She dropped her pen on top of her worksheet and scrubbed her palms on her skirt in an effort to control her edginess. This conversation was doing nothing for her already high strung nerves.

"Then I'll try and stop disappointing you," Quinn said softly.

Rachel froze as a warm hand pressed over hers. Fingers curled around it, coaxing it over before settling snugly against her palm. She forgot how to breathe.

"Don't."

"You don't mean that."

"Please, Quinn, stop."

"Why?"

"You're hurting me."

"I'm not; I'm being very gentle."

Oh, _Barbra! _Just the idea of Quinn wanting to be gentle with her . . . She had to grit her teeth and remember all of the pain and humiliation of the last few weeks, the last few _years_, to stay on track.

"I mean emotionally."

"Since when has that ever stopped me?"

"Please?"

"Do what I'm asking." Quinn pushed the box across the desk again with her free hand.

"No!" She pushed it back with her own free hand.

A thumb brushed softly over her knuckles, "Yes!"

While her brain was screaming at her to wrench her hand away, Rachel's body totally refused to give up this contact. She tentatively squeezed Quinn's fingers even as she pushed the box back again.

"No."

Quinn's eyes closed briefly at the firmer contact of their hands. "Berry, do as you're told." She pushed the box back.

"Or else what?" Rachel pushed it back _again_. "You'll make my life a living hell?"

"No, I'll just never do _this_ again." She squeezed her hand to show what _this _was and pushed the handkerchiefs back to her side of the desk.

"Why would I care?" Rachel's heart was beating way too hard in her chest. If she went to the nurse now she could definitely get away with being sent home sick.

"Because you do."

"No, I don't! Stop trying to make me!"

"You do."

Rachel was about to push the box the other way again but a much larger, masculine hand plucked it from the top of the desk instead.

"While I'm happy I could bring you two together; my class is not the place to be exchanging your one month anniversary gifts."

Both she and Quinn looked up in surprise at Mr. Laxforth as he stood above them, holding the box of handkerchiefs. As the laughter at his comment filtered into their ears Quinn snatched her hand away and glared at her.

Rachel glared right back, daring her.

Quinn didn't disappoint on this occasion. "I kept trying to tell the little freak I didn't want her stupid present. Can I please sit somewhere else from now on?"

Mr. Laxforth smiled as he walked away. "No. Get back on with your worksheets."

It took a while for the chuckles to die down and Quinn kept her head studiously focused on her work until they had. Rachel was pleased because it let her off of the hook Quinn had been dangling her on during their conversation.

After about ten minutes, Quinn murmured, "I hope you're happy. I just lost the handkerchiefs completely now."

"Yes, Quinn," she began sarcastically. "I am extremely happy you taunted me to the point of losing your only respite. It makes me giddy with joy. Can we just focus on going through the worksheets together now please?"

"Answer your own damn questions, Stubbles!"

Rachel just looked at her; she couldn't even summon the necessary emotion for a good glare. Quinn Fabray was mystifying. Maybe it was baby hormone mood swings? Or, more likely, it was just Quinn being Quinn. Either way it just made it clearer that Quinn really had only been interested in getting her chemical fix to assuage her morning sickness, and now that it was denied she was resorting back to her usual unpleasant self.

She set about answering her own questions and, to her surprise, they weren't too difficult. There was a few she had to leave blank, probably because she'd been passing or reading a note during the necessary paragraph but for most of them she could at least hedge around a decent answer.

Quinn had already finished and Rachel had nearly finished when the next mutter came.

"I don't know what to do to fix this."

She didn't take her eyes from her page as she muttered back, "Fix what?"

The bell for the end of class rang and Quinn gathered her books and walked away.

* * *

><p>Mercedes and Kurt slushied Santana between third and fourth period and then ran away before she'd stopped wiping it from her eyes.<p>

Rachel watched from further down the hall, a delighted smile on her face at seeing her spitting ice chips. Until, that was, Santana cleared her vision enough to focus right on her.

She must have known Rachel hadn't thrown it, she was at least twenty feet away after all, but that didn't stop Santana from growling out,

"Soon as I get you alone, Manhands, I'm going to pull every hair out of your head one by fucking one!"

Quinn was watching nonchalantly from the sidelines, smirking just a little at the threat.

Rachel gave her a cold look as she walked past to her next class.

* * *

><p>Lunch had just started and Quinn was at her locker with Santana and Brittany. Rachel was at hers too, just a few lockers down, with Tina and Mercedes. Maybe her lecture the day before about protecting Rachel had actually sunk in.<p>

Santana and Brittany were talking about a party scheduled for that weekend but she wasn't paying much attention. She was still smarting over what had happened in American Lit. How dare Berry not just do as she say? How dare she make Quinn work for it? And she had worked for it, hard, and Rachel still hadn't given in!

What else could she do?

She heard Mercedes say, "Okay, see you in a minute, girl."

And Tina say, "C-c-call us if you need us." While holding her cell phone up, before they both walked away.

They were just leaving her? When Santana and Brittany, and okay herself, were right there? Were they idiots?

"I'll catch up with you in just a second," Rachel promised them, overly brightly

Yeah, Rachel knew how fake they were. That just made it hurt more that she trusted them over her.

The hall was emptying as everyone left the area to go to lunch but Rachel was still busy inside her locker. Quinn willed her to leave _right_ now. Her telepathy left a lot to be desired apparently and the worst happened.

Santana hadn't been as into the conversation with Brittany as she'd seemed. "Okay, here's our chance."

"Our chance for what?" Quinn asked innocently. "Hey, Britt, are you hungry? I'm starving."

"Is that because you're eating for two now?"

She tensed at the question but forced herself to respond amiably. "Possibly. Shall we go and eat?"

"Yeah, I'm hungry. San, are you coming?"

Santana was single-minded. "You two go ahead. I've got a Berry to crush."

"She didn't even throw the slushie!" Quinn blurted before she could stop herself.

"But she ordered it."

"How do you know that?"

Santana wasn't listening and just a few seconds later she had Rachel by the arm and was dragging her away.

"Hey! Hey! Let me go! Where are you taking me?"

Quinn stayed where she was, beside Brittany who was now looking in her locker like she couldn't remember why she'd opened it.

"Do I have Math or Chemistry next?"

"You have Geography next."

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks, Q."

Santana was dragging Rachel into the nearest bathroom.

"B, can I borrow your phone?"

"Sure." Brittany smiled, handing it over without question.

Quinn reached in and grabbed the Geography book from the locker. "Here you go. Can you do me another favor?"

"Yes."

"Can you go to the lunch room right now?"

"Sure, I was going to do that anyway as soon as Santana comes back."

"No, I mean right now."

"Why?"

"It's Tuesday, hamburger day. One of us needs to go and save a table before they're all gone and Santana's busy and I have to make a call."

Brittany frowned, either at the ridiculous idea that _they _wouldn't get a table or at the thought of being surrounded by hamburgers and not being able to eat one, but she nodded anyway, "Okay."

As soon as Brittany was walking in the opposite direction Quinn, with a racing pulse and a fast, nervous stride, made her way towards the bathroom.

Rachel was already pinned against the wall and Santana's fist was poised to strike.

"Starting without me?" she asked casually.


	28. I Plead (more) Insanity

Told you I wouldn't leave you hanging long :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Eight:<strong>

**I Plead (more) Insanity  
><strong>

Leaning on the open door, Quinn planted a loose fist on her jutting hip as confidently as she could as she asked, "Well?"

Her friend looked over her shoulder with a jubilant grin, "No way, just letting it see what it's getting."

"Good."

"If you're going to hit me, just hit me."

"Oh, I'm _going _to hit you, Midget."

"Then get on with it and stop wasting my time."

It was impressive how Rachel could look so terrified – Quinn could see her shaking from here – and still hold her head up defiantly. It took balls to stand up to Santana – there were three hundred pound jocks who quailed at just the tone of her voice – and here was Berry giving just as much attitude as she was getting, even if she was about to wet herself at the same time.

"Why would we want to rush this?" she asked with a cruel smirk. "We have all lunch to make you suffer."

"Quinn . . ."

"Shut it, Manhands. You don't get to use my name unless I give you permission." She nodded at Santana. "Keep her sweating until I'm ready."

As Quinn came back out of the stall a couple of minutes later and moved to the sinks to wash her hands, Santana's phone beeped with a text alert. The girl looked at her bag on the counter beside Quinn.

"Want me to get it for you?" she asked as she dried her hands.

"No, just come and hold the freak."

"Gladly."

Okay, that had come out nastily enough but she probably should have picked a less eager word. To make up for it she took Santana's place by grabbing Rachel's upper arms hard and pressing them back against the wall. The move forced them too close and she had to fight the urge – almost a habit now – to drop her nose to the other girl's shoulder.

She'd have trouble explaining that one to Santana.

Rachel stopped shaking and started trembling instead. Quinn hoped it wasn't a reaction caused by a more intense fear. One glance into dark eyes filled with hurt made her regret looking and afterwards she kept her eyes on Rachel's mouth instead while schooling her expression into something cold and hard and appropriate for the situation.

Santana cursed in Spanish.

"What is it?"

"Her team of _losers_ have Britt cornered in the lunch room."

Quinn shrugged, "Brittany can handle herself."

"Yeah, but she won't!" Santana slung her bag over her shoulder. "Come on, we gotta go kick some ass."

"What about . . . ?"

"Bitch can wait."

Santana was halfway out the door when Quinn called after her.

"Shit, I'll catch you up. Being this close to Berry is making me need to hurl again."

She caught the 'Sure, whatever!' before the door was fully shut.

Quinn kept up her punishing grip on Rachel's arms for a few more seconds to be on the safe side before releasing the girl and stepping back. They stood there looking at each other until Rachel's breathing had returned to normal.

"Don't you have to be sick?"

"Not urgently. No more than usual for the last few days anyway."

Rachel looked confused.

"I'm going to lock the door, okay?"

Rachel looked even more confused as Quinn used her master key. She left it in the lock; not wanting to make Rachel feel trapped.

"Why?"

"Because when Santana finds Brittany," she explained, "she's going to be pissed."

"Why?"

Quinn held up her friend's phone. "Britt's."

"What . . .? Oh." Rachel smiled but it didn't last long enough. "Why?"

"Because Santana hits a lot harder than I do and I know you had nothing to do with that slushie."

"What makes you think that?"

"Okay, maybe you did. I don't care. I didn't want her to hurt you."

"Why?"

Quinn groaned, "Would you stop asking that?"

"I will when I get a satisfactory answer."

"And what answer would you find satisfying?"

Rachel's eyebrows quirked a little at that. "The truth?"

Dream on! "I want to revisit our conversation about my . . . needs." Now Rachel groaned but Quinn ignored her. "Obviously the handkerchiefs are gone and even if I could get them back I can't be seen using them now so . . ."

Rachel moved to the sinks to look in the mirror. Quinn recognized it as a way to put some distance between them while being able to keep an eye on her; she'd employed the same tactic after Rachel had _kissed _her ear.

"I've already made my position on this perfectly clear."

Quinn carried on as if she hadn't spoken. "I was thinking that if I gave you an article of clothing every day you could wash that instead and then meet me before school each morning so that I can change into . . ."

"No!"

Quinn kept calm. "Obviously I will start reimbursing you for the fabric softener . . ."

"No!"

"Berry, please!"

Rachel turned away from the mirrors and leaned back against the sinks with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"Talking of articles of clothing, where is my scarf? Did you just throw it away when it stopped being of use to you? That was a gift from my Daddy, you know!"

"Of course I didn't throw it away! You slushied it last week, remember?"

"Oh." Rachel looked sorry for her accusation and annoyed with herself. "I guess I ruined it."

"No. I took it the dry cleaners with the Cheerios uniforms. They were pretty confident they could get the stain out. I'll find out this afternoon when I pick them up."

Rachel smiled. "Oh. Thank you. That was . . . nice of you, considering I'm the one who threw the slushie."

"It's fine. You know, we could just use that."

"For what?"

"I could bring it by tonight and hang out while you washed it."

'_Please say yes! Please say yes!'_

"Why would I need to wash it if it's just been dry cleaned?"

"Because it won't smell right if you don't."

Rachel finally understood what she was saying. "So you'll spend forty-five minutes tonight with me if I wash the scarf _for you_?"

Quinn really didn't like her tone of voice. "Well, I wasn't planning on setting a timer or anything."

"But you're only planning on staying for the duration of the spin-cycle, aren't you?"

She hadn't been actually, but that tone really was pissing her off.

"With you in this mood why would I want to stay any longer?"

"_My _mood is the problem?"

"Right now, yes!"

"Then I'd hate to force you to endure it for even forty-five minutes. You may still bring the scarf to my house though."

Quinn didn't dare hope yet; the change of mind had been too sudden. "And you'll bring it into school for me tomorrow?"

"No, I just want the scarf. It is mine after all."

"God, you are so infuriating!" she snapped, taking a step closer while her fists balled at her sides.

The two weren't linked, she was just really frustrated right now, but Rachel didn't know that and quickly slipped away from the sinks to the middle of the room before Quinn could corner her.

"I appreciate you protecting me from Santana, Quinn, but now I'm going to go and make sure your actions haven't just endangered the lives of my friends in my place."

"They're not your friends!"

Rachel slumped at her snarled words but quickly drew herself back up. "Be that as it may . . ."

"No, Rachel, you need to hear this! Those losers don't care about you. You should be happy if they are getting their asses kicked right now!"

"I'm not you!"

Quinn grit her teeth but pressed on, repeating, "They don't care about you. Do you think any one of them would have done what I just did? Santana is going to be more pissed at me for tricking her than she is at you. Don't you understand that I just put myself on the line for you? That _has_ to rate me above those user losers of yours."

Rachel shook her head helplessly. "I don't understand anything any more."

"So just stay in here with me and we'll figure it out," she said softly.

She didn't know what she was asking, really, or offering for that matter. She just didn't want Rachel to storm out on her because it hurt more than she was prepared to deal with. She was suddenly determined to have things be okay between them, to make Rachel like her again, before this lunch period was through. She'd win Rachel over somehow so that they could be secret friends again or . . . _something_ . . . even while their war raged around them.

"Figure what out exactly?" Rachel asked just as softly, clearly thrown by her reply.

Quinn wished she could just tell her everything that had just run through her head but it wouldn't be forced out loud. She was left with the only reason she was comfortable giving voice to.

"How we can get past your stubbornness about the scarf."

Rachel laughed in a not very nice way. "I should have known!"

"Look, you think I'm using you, fine! I'm sure we can come up with a solution where you are getting just as much out of this arrangement as I am. Will that make you happy?"

"There is nothing you can give me that will make it better," she scoffed and moved to the door. "Goodbye, Quinn."

Quinn rushed her, grabbing her hand before it could grip the key and turning her around so that her back met the wall again.

"I won't do as you say so you're going to beat me up after all?"

"No, I'm not going to beat you up, but I'm not going to let you leave either until we've talked about this."

"We have talked about it!"

"You didn't even give my suggestion a second of thought, that's not talking about it."

"Okay, let's talk about it? What could you possibly give me that will make this alright?"

Considering she'd started this conversation and had been completely serious about it, Rachel's direct question made Quinn pause. What could she give her? What did Rachel want . . . exactly?

'_But what I wouldn't do – there is NOTHING I wouldn't do for Quinn Fabray if it meant she would reward me with . . . again.'_

She swallowed her sudden nervousness as discreetly as she could and lightly shrugged. "Whatever you want."

Rachel looked up at her with a mixture of defiance and a sort of hopeful fear that Quinn could definitely relate to. She had to force herself not to back away in a panic.

"I don't want anything."

"Yes you do. What is it?"

Rachel shook her head and her eyes darted to the door beside them.

Quinn pressed her forearm against the wall, blocking her view of it as she leaned into her.

"Tell me?"

Rachel remained mute so Quinn guessed and gently took her hand.

"Is it this?"

From the way Rachel's fingers remained rigid instead of curling around hers she figured not.

"What then? Tell me! Another date? Is that what you want? A real date? Candlelit dinner for two at Breadstix followed by a movie? The Phoenix theatre is having another of their classic film festivals right now. They're showing The Wizard of Oz this week, I think."

Rachel's eyes widened and she started to smile shyly. Her fingers squeezed in a gesture of childlike excitement and Quinn was already smiling, knowing she'd cracked it.

It wasn't even something that would be difficult to give the girl. Finn could obviously never find out which meant she'd have to make sure there was no one at the restaurant they knew but that was really the only hurdle. Maybe she could organize a Glee night out to the bowling alley or something but then cry off at the last minute with morning sickness. Nobody would question Rachel not being there, if they even noticed her absence. That way she wouldn't have to ruin the date by constantly looking over her shoulder. She could just relax and enjoy Rachel's company.

She was already half-planning what she was going to wear and was about to ask what night Rachel wanted to go out when the other girl interrupted her.

"You can't have a romantic meal at Breadstix. The place is so brightly lit you wouldn't even be able to see the candle light!"

Quinn grinned, feeling easier now, "Okay, you're right. Where would you like to eat instead? There's a new French restaurant on West Market that I've been trying to convince Finn to try . . . I could take you instead."

"The French eat horses, Quinn!"

"So, I'm sure they have other stuff on the menu too."

"Yes, well if you want to risk it, you'll have to work harder at manipulating Finn into going because I'm not going on another date with you. I don't believe in making the same mistake twice."

Quinn wanted to scream as she realized her invite was being rejected. What did she have to do? She hadn't had to try this hard to get what she wanted in years and of all people to finally give her a run for her money it was _Rachel_.

"For God's sake, Berry, now you really are making me feel like throwing up! Just give in already!"

"No."

"Arrrgh!" She dropped her nose to the shoulder of Rachel's blouse and inhaled instinctively. That was better. She did it again. Much better. "Mmm."

"Quinn, no."

"Yes. If you won't wash anything for me I'll have to take it straight from the source."

"You're just making it harder," Rachel breathed as Quinn's nose travelled up to her loose collar.

She shivered at the warm breath in her ear.

"Making it harder for whom? I'm perfectly okay with this." Rachel tilted her head to the side as Quinn dragged her nose over the collar, letting it brush her neck. Better and better. "And you don't seem to mind it that much either."

"I-I do."

"Really? You don't sound too certain."

Quinn pressed her nose to the crook of Rachel's neck; amazed at how much self-control she needed to stop her lips from reaching for the citrusy-smelling softness too. It would be so easy to place a kiss just there, or open her mouth, let her tongue press to the hot skin . . . Rachel was breathing so hard in her ear, fingers trembling in her hand that she knew _this_ was still mutual despite Berry's protests.

She pulled back to look at Rachel.

'_Fuck!'_

Yes, judging by the look in Rachel's eyes this was very much still mutual. She'd never before seen anyone look so confused . . . eager . . . terrified_. _She'd be two for two though if she turned to look in the mirror.

She couldn't believe this was happening. Not that anything _was _happening, no way. They were both just very . . . yes, exactly, they were confused. If she ignored it, it _would_ go away. It had to. Until then she had to set an example for both of them and carry on as normal and pretend it was no big deal, because then it wouldn't be.

She covered the quiver in her voice with a smile. "That's it, isn't it?"

"What's . . ." Rachel had to clear her throat. "What's it?"

"The reason you won't help me out . . . you're jealous!"

Rachel's eyebrows practically knit together in the middle. "Huh? Jealous of what?"

"The third party. You just want to make it so I can only get my _fix _straight from you."

"You're insane."

"Admit it, Rachel; you're as addicted to being the sniffee as I am being the sniffer."

"Certifiable!" but her lips quirked up at the edges.

"Face it, we're both junkies."

"I am not addicted to being . . . _sniffed_," Rachel's face was priceless at the accusation. "But even if I were that just gives me an even better reason to put an end to this behavior. I cannot go through life, Quinn, craving the inhalations of random strangers on the street."

'_Oh no you don't.' _As Rachel tried to take advantage of Quinn's laughter to move away from the wall, she penned her in again. "Not strangers, just me. Think of it as the difference between dropping X at a rave and smoking a joint in your bedroom with your best friends."

Rachel looked horrified. "I have no intention of ever doing either. My drug-fuelled days ended when the sudafed finally left my system."

"Me neither, it was just an analogy."

"So, should I take it that you want me to come over to your bedroom so you can sniff me at your leisure in safe surroundings then?"

Quinn started laughing again. "No, that's obviously not what I _want_! I want you to get over your jealousy and let me have your scarf back again."

"Oh." Rachel looked disappointed.

"Besides, even if that was what I wanted, it wouldn't be practical. I can't carry you around in my pocket all day – you're short even for a gnome, but not that short – or take you to bed at night."

While Rachel was still huffing about the short joke, Quinn mused teasingly, "Well, I suppose technically I could do the second one. Would that be a good enough compromise for you? I wear your scarf during the day and then take you to bed at night?"

As Rachel's eyes went wide and her mouth spluttered out half-formed words, Quinn grinned devilishly and pressed her nose back to her shoulder – making sure to keep the barrier of the blouse between them this time.

"Was that a yes or a no?"

The door handle beside them rattled, making them both jump, and then the banging and yelling started.

"I know you're in there, Fabray!" Santana's fist started beating heavily against the other side of the door and Quinn looked up long enough to put her finger to her lips before ducking her head back down. "You have some serious 'splaining to do, bitch!"

"Nice friends you have," Rachel quietly mocked her with her own words.

Quinn just chuckled against her neck . . . crap, when had she moved her nose all the way up there again?

"Well, I did lie to her and ruin her fun; she has a right to be pissed."

They giggled and then shushed each other as Santana became even angrier at the lack of response.

"I think I'm actually scared to go out there now," Rachel admitted.

"All the more reason to just stay right here." She nuzzled the side of her neck and felt Rachel shiver.

"I'd really prefer it if you stopped doing that."

"Liar."

After a few more expletive-ridden threats the banging stopped and the sound of Santana taking her frustration out on the students around her could be heard retreating into the distance.

"I guess she's gone."

"Mmmhmm."

Quinn switched sides, pushing dark hair back out of the way without even pretending to start with her shoulder before tucking her nose into Rachel's loose collar – best of both worlds: Rachel's neck and Rachel's fabric softener all in one hit.

"Quinn." Rachel's free hand drifted up to rest lightly in the small of her back

No pressure was being applied but she used it as an excuse to shuffle closer anyway. "Yes?"

"What if I kiss your ear again?"

Quinn cursed the excited tremble that ran through her. "We'll call it an icebreaker. Otherwise it might be awkward when I take you to bed tonight."

"Stop saying that," Rachel groaned. "And stop _doing _that before you force me to take drastic measures!"

"Like what?"

"I don't think you really want to find out, just know that they will be dire."

"I'll take my chances."

"Fine."

When a minute had passed with no retaliation Quinn was starting to assume the threat had been empty. It wasn't, Rachel had just been psyching herself up. Tense, closed lips pressed to her earlobe. It was forced, not spontaneous like before, making it not as enjoyable – which wasn't to say it didn't still feel great to have Rachel kissing her ear.

When she didn't react she could tell Rachel was confused – by this time last time she had been on her feet and ordering the other girl to get out of her way – this time she just accepted the contact and didn't lift her face from Rachel's neck.

Rachel probably wanted to make a noise like 'Hmm?'

"Is that the best you have?" she murmured. "'Cause you kind of lost the shock factor of that the . . . _okay_!"

Why had she put the idea of sucking her earlobe into Berry's head?

Why hadn't she waited long enough to let her do it last time?

"Why aren't you pulling away?" the whisper sent warm air rushing over her wet lobe and she had to bite back an appreciative sigh.

"Because I'm not backing down until you give in and do what I . . ." A tongue delicately traced the shell of her ear. ". . . _oh God!"_

"Who's backing down?" Rachel purred.

Oh GOD! How did she make her voice go like that?

She was only aware that her lips were pressed to Rachel's neck when she had to pull back a little to speak. "Not me."

"For Barbra's sake! What is it going to take to make you understand I am not going to change my mind on this?"

Quinn pulled her head back at the abrupt change in tone.

"There is nothing you can do to make me be your . . . your _bitch_!"

Quinn smiled, "My bitch?"

"Well, what else would you call it when you are trying to dominate me into doing your bidding?"

Well, that certainly broke the spell.

"I honestly don't get why you are being so fixated on me _making _you do anything!" Quinn yelled at her. "I just want to borrow your scarf for a little longer and you _know_ why. Do you think I got pregnant just so I could have morning sickness and use it to torment you with? Do you think I hate you that much that I would ruin my own life just to have ammo to knock you down with?"

"No, of course not," Rachel snapped. "Although I think you probably do hate me enough to do that in theory, but I know you can't help the morning sickness."

"Then why won't you help me?"

"Because every time I have so far you've made me regret it."

"What do you want from me? I'm trying! I'm trying to meet you half way, so we can both be happy."

"You're _trying_ to make yourself happy and you obviously have no qualms about stepping on me to do it!"

"That's not true! Look, let me prove it to you. Just tell me what you want and I'll do it. Anything."

Rachel shook her head again but it was less assertive, less certain than before. "There isn't anything."

"There is! I read it in your diary. There _is_ something I can do to make this right. Something I've done before and you want me to do _again_. What _is _it?" she insisted harshly.

"That was private!"

"I don't care. Just tell me. Rach, tell me. Is it this?"

She pulled their joined hands towards her. Rachel didn't protest until Quinn pushed her palm flat against her abs, then she tried to jerk her hand away. Quinn didn't let her, holding it prisoner – unconsciously she tensed her muscles out of respect for her so far non-existent baby bump.

"Quinn . . . please."

"Please what?"

"Stop."

"Why?"

Rachel's eyes dropped to their hands. "I don't know why you feel the need to . . . to . . ."

"To what?"

"To _tease _me!" Rachel blurted out violently and then raised her free hand to cover her mouth as if she could stop the words that had already escaped.

"I'm _not _teasing you." She wished she was! "Like I said, I'm just trying to find a halfway point for us."

"And you think allowing me to do this . . ." Rachel pulled her hand down – not away, which was what caught Quinn by surprise – and pushed it just a few inches under her Cheerios top. ". . . is enough to make me subservient to you?"

Quinn barely stifled her gasp at the sudden contact of Rachel's soft hand against her bare skin. This was too much. She couldn't do this. This was too much touching! As Rachel flexed her palm Quinn had to bite her lip.

"Is it?" she ground out when she trusted herself to speak.

"I'll admit it's nice." Rachel sounded wistful. She moved her fingers, nails dragging softly against her skin. Quinn let out a shaky breath and inadvertently arched into the contact. "But knowing you're only allowing it because you are trying to manipulate me spoils it."

She pulled her hand out and let it drop to her side.

Was she kidding? Was she really that stupid? She knew she should be happy that Rachel didn't _get it_ but it just made her want to cry in frustration.

"You're killing me here, Berry!" She really was. "What else can I offer you? What else could you possibly want?"

She tried to take her hand again but Rachel moved it out of reach so Quinn cupped her hip instead and leaned closer still. They were breathing the same air now, their foreheads almost touching.

Rachel was caught in her eyes.

Quinn was lost in hers. They were darker than she'd even seen and she wasn't imagining the longing in them.

"Tell me," she whispered.

"I don't know how to ask . . ." Rachel breathed and then caught herself and looked down.

"Do you want me to kiss you again?" she murmured, nose brushing Rachel's.

'_Say yes, force me to do this,' _she silently pleaded, slowly closing the distance between them.

"No." What? "I don't."

Quinn pulled her head back. "Excuse me?"

"This is a new low even for you, Quinn."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I can't believe you'd actually pretend to kiss me just to get me to do what you want!"

"How do you _pretend _to kiss someone?"

"You tell me. I've never used someone like that before!"

"I'm not using you!"

"So you're trying to tell me you actually want to kiss me all of a sudden?"

Quinn froze; throat locking with fear, head spinning with feeling's she had no experience of dealing with.

"Just what I thought." She let Rachel push her away. "Quinn, while I can appreciate your mind games in this Team-Berry versus Team-Fabray war on a purely objective level, I have to ask you to not make them so personal in the future. The last ten minutes have been extremely embarrassing for the both of us I feel and I'd rather not have a repeat of it."

"_You're_ embarrassed?" Quinn managed to keep her tone pretty light-hearted considering how she felt.

Rachel only heard the words. "I do have some dignity, you know? Despite your best efforts to strip me of it."

"Rachel . . ."

The other girl held her hand up to stop her. "I'm going to go now but I will give you the answer to your relentless questioning out of courtesy. The only thing I would have required for my agreement was a single gesture of honesty and trust between us. Your offers of fake friendship and desperate proposals of false sexual intent mean nothing to me, but for one ounce of sincerity I would gladly help you out in any way I can again."

'_They were sincere! Both of them! How could . . .? Dear God, have I really damaged her self-esteem so much in the last few years that she can't tell when someone actually likes her?'_

"If you're waiting for that I guess we'll both just have to suffer," she snapped.

Rachel shrank back before twisting the key and leaving the bathroom.

'_And there's my answer. I suck.'_

_You kind of do._

'_Thanks for the vote of confidence.'_

_You should be more worried about Rachel's confidence right now._

'_I am!'_

_Prove it?_

'_How?'_

There was no reply from the great beyond and Quinn blew out a frustrated breath.

* * *

><p>Rachel's final two classes for the day passed in a blur. She couldn't concentrate on anything. Her mind was a whirl of accusations and confusion.<p>

Why was Quinn so mean? Why hadn't she let Quinn kiss her? Why did she still want Quinn to kiss her so badly after everything she had done? Why did Quinn seem to want to kiss her? Surely no one would go that far just for fabric softener? Quinn could have just asked for the brand and scent and gone to the store after school to get some herself. Instead she had been desperate to the point of nearly _kissing_ her to get Rachel to wash the scarf.

It just didn't make sense!

She saw the object of her affecti . . . thoughts after school while they were both at their lockers. For once Quinn wasn't surrounded by Santana and Brittany. Mercedes and Kurt, however, joined her as soon as they'd finished at their own lockers down the hall.

"You ready to go?" Mercedes asked, shooting Quinn a wary look when the blonde glanced over.

Rachel was, but pretended she wasn't. She didn't know why she wanted another confrontation but Quinn's constant glances were intriguing.

"I'll be another minute. If you two want to go ahead . . ."

"No, it's fine," Kurt said. "Obviously it's not safe for any of us to be alone right now and friends stick together, am I right?"

He was talking about her getting dragged into the bathroom by Santana – which none of them seemed to realize had come to nothing – and he, Mercedes and Artie being subjected to bowls of tomato soup being poured over them by Santana after she'd arrived in the lunch room to defend Brittany. From what Rachel could gather, they'd only been sharing a table with the cheerleader, but after Quinn's fake text Santana hadn't bothered to ask questions first.

"Friends, right!" she said cheerfully, not missing Quinn's pointed, but unnecessary, glare. "Then let's head to Glee."

Their 'friendship' apparently still didn't extend to them sitting near her in the Choir room. While she took a seat at the front, Mercedes and Kurt went right to the back as they usually did. Artie wheeled himself up to the side and she supposed it wasn't his fault that he was still three chairs away from her but when Tina sat on the chair closest to him, still two away from her, it was clear the camaraderie was limited.

When Mike came in he took the seat beside her and she smiled at him, she even smiled at Matt when he took the chair between Tina and Mike. She didn't get a chance to see if it was returned however, because she was too dumbstruck by _Quinn_ taking the seat on the other side of her.

Quinn didn't look at her as she pulled Finn down beside her and Rachel could only assume that she was sitting so far from the other Cheerios because Santana really was angry over what had transpired earlier.

"Stop looking at me or I'll move," Quinn muttered as Mr. Schuester started the session.

It took a second for the words to sink in and then Rachel dragged her eyes away, but not before she noticed Quinn was holding Finn's hand like she was drowning at sea and he was her only floatation device.

"Okay, so we had Artie, Puck and Tina yesterday. Who's up for singing today?"

When no one volunteered themselves Mr. Schue asked, "Rachel?"

"I, uh, I'm not quite prepared yet." He looked at her like this was another sign of her spiralling depression and maybe it was. She'd listened to Kelly Clarkson's back catalogue a dozen times now but still hadn't picked out an appropriate song. "I'd rather wait until tomorrow if that's okay."

"Sure. So, anyone else? Brittany? Kurt? Quinn?"

"I need another day too," Quinn said, barely looking up at the Spanish teacher as she spoke.

"Okay anyone . . .?"

"I'll go." Finn stood up. "Okay, as you know, us guys picked Aerosmith and so, this is for you, Quinn. I, uh, hope you like it."

He looked nervous as Brad started playing the intro on his piano and while Rachel may have initially thought an assignment that gave _everyone_ a solo was a waste of _her _time, now she could see the worth in it. They were all here because they enjoyed singing but only a few of them were confident doing so in front of others. Even the three Cheerios, who were arguably the most confident girls in school, had yet to perform a single solo between them. So, with that in mind, she gave Finn a giant thumbs up and a wide encouraging smile.

He returned it with a nod and a shaky kind of grin before focusing on his girlfriend again as he began to sing,

"_I could stay awake, just to hear you breathing,_

_Watch you smile while you were sleeping,_

_While you're far away and dreaming . . ."_

Rachel's eyes dropped though on seeing Quinn's surprised smile, it caused a real ache in her chest, but she just couldn't be rude for long. After all, this was her leading man and she owed him her support. He sang the song beautifully, mostly, only going flat on a couple of occasions and he couldn't get his voice to match the necessary high notes, but he did the best he could.

She clapped along with everyone else, glancing surreptitiously at Quinn. The blonde was clapping too but her eyes looked full of tears. Were they happy tears? The song certainly called for happy tears from her, the sentiment had been awe-inspiring, and had made Rachel more than a little jealous, but Quinn didn't look particularly happy despite her smile.

She murmured to her under the clapping. "Are you okay?"

Quinn's breath caught from her tears as she answered, "Do you care?"

"Yes."

Quinn gave her the smallest of smiles. "Then I'm fine."

What did that mean? She didn't get a chance to ask before Quinn was out of her seat and hugging Finn around the waist. She buried her head in his chest and Finn looked both happy and nervous as he met Rachel's gaze.

She gave him one more big, supportive smile before averting her eyes back to Mr. Schuester.

"Okay, that was great, Finn. Who's next?"

Rachel was vaguely aware of Mercedes speaking up and stepping down to the floor as the band played the opening chords of a new song, but she was more focused on Quinn sitting back down. She seemed even closer than she had before.

Rachel didn't even know where the question came from as she murmured, "What would you do if I held your hand now?"

Quinn murmured back instantly, "I don't know. Probably hit you again and then hate myself for it."

Rachel nodded and as her hand twitched, itching to test the boundaries, she was almost sure she saw Quinn's do the same.

* * *

><p>"Berry!"<p>

"No!"

"Stop!"

"I won't!"

Quinn was practically chasing her to her Dad's car.

"I just want to talk."

"No you want to manipulate me some more."

"Fine, I want to manipulate you some more. Come on, don't you find my dogged persistence endearing?"

She did actually. This couldn't just be about fabric softener anymore. No one was this addicted to fabric softener, especially as she hadn't seen Quinn run to the bathroom once today. Plus she still had two usable legs despite having _licked _Quinn's ear.

Wow, she'd licked Quinn's ear.

She stopped at the pick up point because she had no choice, her Dad wasn't there yet.

"Aren't you completely ruining you reputation by chasing after me like a love-sick puppy?" she joked.

She regretted it when Quinn's face went tight, stopping several feet from her. She was about to offer a retraction when Quinn just shook her head, smiling a little.

"Completely. Now everyone thinks I'm into you. Is that enough to get you to change your mind?"

"No."

"For crying out loud, Berry! What is it going to take?"

"I've already told you."

"But how can I convince you I'm sincere when you don't believe a single word I say on principle?"

"I don't know." Her Dad pulled up with perfect timing and she opened the passenger door. "Goodbye, Quinn."

It should have felt more gratifying than it did to drive away while Quinn Fabray watched her go.


	29. You're Making Me a Crazy Chick

A/n: Life is still crazy, hence the infrequent updates recently, but here's another chapter for you. Thanks for all the reviews for the last chapter, seriously you guys are so amazing. Now there's elements of this chapter some of you might not like on principal, but remember this is season one we're playing with, a time when everybody was good and kind (Except Quinn and Santana) and hadn't pissed of half the Faberry and Brittana fandoms just by existing. That said, let me know what you think.

A/n2: The chapter title comes from the Charlotte Church song 'Crazy Chick'.

**Chapter Twenty-Nine:**

**You're Making Me A Crazy Chick **

**(I need professional help!)**

Quinn tapped her pen restlessly against her knee as they watched television in Finn's bedroom.

She'd come over after school to hang out and do homework in the hope it would relax her and help her forget her infuriating day but so far being there was only making her more on edge than ever.

It might have had something to do with the shark attack show they were watching. It was gross and violent and for some reason all of the baby seals that were getting snapped up seemed to have Rachel's face.

And Great White Shark, Quinn decided, was not a good look on her, even if she could appreciate the deadly personality somewhat. She didn't want to tear Rachel apart any more though, no matter how much easier it would make her life if she did.

She sighed noisily, snapping her history book closed as she turned impatiently away from the TV.

"Are you okay? You've been touchy ever since you got here. Do you feel sick? Do you want me to make you a sandwich or something?"

"I'm fine. Can we just watch something else? This is disgusting."

"It's good, like nature and stuff, and anyway it's nearly over."

"Finn!"

"Fine!" He stabbed the remote, turning the set off completely.

"You could have just changed the channel."

He shrugged. "I thought you wanted to do homework anyway. We should probably get started. There won't be any point in using Rachel to get a scholarship to college if I can't even pass tenth grade."

"I wasn't using her!"

Finn sat back in surprise. "I . . . I didn't mean it like that. I just meant, like, taking advantage of how much stronger we are as a team and stuff when she's a part of Glee. Not using her as a person."

"Is that any better?"

Finn looked suitably confused. "Are you feeling bad about something to do with Rachel?"

"Of course not! I just . . ." She shook her head. ". . . I hate that we have to rely on Manhands for _anything_. It's degrading."

"But if it's for our baby . . .?" he shrugged helplessly.

He was trying, it wasn't his fault he was no good at giving her the answers she needed right now. She didn't know _how_ to get the answers she needed. Maybe some questions were better left unasked.

"Finn, have you really stopped to think about this?"

"Are you kidding me? I don't think about anything else! I'm going to be a father. I don't know how to be a Dad! It's not like I ever had one around to teach_ me_. So sure I've been thinking about it, it's like I'm always thinking about it – well nearly always, sometimes I have to think about normal guy things, like burgers and football and, I don't know, your boobs and stuff . . ." Catching sight of her expression he stumbled over his next few words before rushing on. "A-and I, uh, I got it all figured out now, I think. So, like, first we win Sectionals, then we win Regionals and then we go on to kill at Nationals, because you might now like Rachel much but she _is_ that good and she makes _me_ better just being with her . . ."

Quinn was nodding thoughtfully, personalizing his words, and only recognized his slip-up when he made his correction.

". . . I mean us; she makes us better, New Directions." He looked shifty for a moment before getting back on topic. "Miss Pillsbury said winning Nationals should be enough to guarantee me a scholarship and then I can get a decent job and we'll – me, you and baby – we'll be okay."

She let the slip go. They actually had bigger things to discuss than his crazy obsession with Rachel Berry.

_Nicely deflected there._

'_I thought so.'_

"Finn, how are you going to support us until you graduate college?"

"What?"

"This baby isn't going to live in me for the next six years! It's due in less than eight months. _That's_ when we'll start needing diapers and food and, oh, maybe a place to live! Not after you've graduated from college."

He stared at her for a moment and then slammed a loosely curled fist down on his bed in frustration.

"_Crap! _What am I going to do? School won't even have finished for the summer by then. I'm going to have to drop out. How do I even do that. " He left the bed to pace the small space beside it, obliviously kicking and trampling balled socks, lidless pens and his English homework. As the fears he'd been hiding from her broke free, his gestures were as panicky as his voice, arms flailing in time with his words, giving Quinn the _urge_ to duck if not the necessity. "_How_ am I going to tell my _Mom_?"

"Finn." Seeing the tears in his eyes Quinn slid to the edge of the bed, reaching out to snatch his closest hand between hers and jerk him around to face her. "Calm down, okay?"

"Calm down? How can I . . .? I've been so busy focusing on how I can be a good dad I forgot this was, like, happening right now. I think it's 'cause you're still hot and everything; as soon as you get really fat it's gonna be like 'Oh yeah, shit! We're having a baby . . .'"

"Hey!"

He was too worked up to even realize he'd just insulted her. She wanted to be angry but it was guilt that surged through her. This shouldn't be his problem. She couldn't let him even think about dropping out of school over this.

She pulled him back down onto the bed, "Hey, what if there was another way?"

"For what?"

"To deal with this."

"I thought you didn't want to . . ."

"No. Not that. But there are other options, once it's born."

"What, like our parents supporting us until I'm done with college?" He sounded both hopeful and like his pride was about to take a battering.

She squeezed his hand. "Actually I was thinking about adoption . . . possibly."

Possibly as in she'd already told Mrs. Schuester yes.

She watched him silently watch her for a really long time, different emotions flickering across his face from confusion to understanding to relief. It was the relief she expected, she was giving him a way out, and she smiled softly to let him know it was okay.

What she didn't expect were the tears rolling down his cheeks, or sadness replacing the relief in his eyes and the broken catch in his voice. "You want to give my . . . our baby away."

It wasn't an accusation, just heartbroken acceptance and it caused her own eyes to fill with tears.

"No. I mean, I don't know. It's just something else for us to think about. Long term we have to choose what's best for the baby, not for us."

He nodded, "I know but . . ." He pulled away so he could rub the heels of his hands into his eyes, leaving them redder than before. "This is just too much. We're kids, Quinn! And we never even did anything wrong! I mean if we'd, you know, had _sex_, we could be like 'well that was stupid but at least we had fun' right?" He chuckled nervously, like he was hoping to convince her he was joking, and sniffed back the last of his tears.

She smiled coyly. "You mean you didn't have fun in the hot tub? You certainly seemed to."

His smile turned sheepish. "_Sure_ it was fun; I just don't know if it was a 'knock-your-girlfriend-up-and-completely-screw-up-both-of-your-lives' amount of fun."

Quinn looked down as he looked back up, guilt pinching her heart again.

"Sorry, that was a dumb thing to say. I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I know this is all my fault for being, uh, well, all Quick Draw McGraw," he shrugged a shoulder. She raised an eyebrow and he gave another sheepish shrug. "You're not the one who couldn't . . . _stop_!"

No, but it helped that she hadn't really _started_ in the first place. Not that she was going to tell him that. She wanted to make him feel better, not worse. He clearly already had a complex about it all.

"Hey, it wasn't your fault. It happens. It was a . . . a sexy situation and, hey, I'd have been more upset if you hadn't had that reaction kissing me when I was in my bikini . . ." She thought about that and knew she had to add something less soothing. ". . . Well, maybe not, because at least then I wouldn't be pregnant . . ." As he dropped his head into his hands she swiftly moved past it into pleasanter waters. ". . . but you shouldn't blame yourself, it was like a freak accident or something."

"They should really put a warning on the side of the hot tub," he agreed innocently, before letting his anxieties take the fore again. "But we still have to deal. I've been stupid, burying my head in clouds of scholarships and stuff. I need to start thinking about this little person . . ." he put his palm gently over her stomach ". . . so you don't have to give it away. You know, unless you actually want to."

This was the first time he'd physically acknowledged the baby in this way and his support in letting her know he'd stand by her in whatever decision _she_ ultimately made just reminded her that she might have chosen him because he was the school's star Quarterback but she was still with him nearly six months later because there were a lot of reasons why she should love him.

And she really did.

But at the same time his hand felt too large on her stomach, somehow unfamiliar even though he was her boyfriend. She'd spent more time in the last few weeks physically closer to someone else and it may have been _completely platonic_ . . . or whatever the hell it was, but that felt . . . God, she didn't want to be thinking about this now. She didn't want to remember how Rachel's hand had felt when it had been closer to her skin than Finn's, just that afternoon . . .

"We'll figure it out together." It was another lie but one he deserved for the time being. "But later. For now, come here."

She pulled him closer by his polo shirt as she leaned in and up to press her mouth to his. His lips tasted salty from where he'd brushed his tears across his face and she licked them instinctively, causing him to pull back with a surprised smile.

"I thought you wanted to study?"

"I opened the book. That's enough studying for now."

"Cool."

As they kissed again she pushed him back onto the bed, making his hand fall away from her stomach. She was much happier with it lightly gripping her shoulder. It still felt too big but that was okay. She didn't want to think about small hands anymore anyway.

She wriggled up on top of him until she was comfortable, smirking a little as he groaned low in his throat and forgot to kiss back for a few seconds – he was so _easy _(unlike some people).

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

They kissed until he pulled away, panting for air, and she dropped her head to his shoulder while he recovered. Feeling comfortable and safe in his arms, she didn't know why the thoughts came back again.

Comparing Finn to . . . um, anyone, especially right now, was so disrespectful and wrong but . . . How would it really feel to lie like this with . . . with someoneelse? To do what they'd just been doing? Would it feel completely immoral and horrible? Just _thinking_ about it sort of did, as well as sinful and shameful and senseless and too strange to even consider.

'_And surprizing and stimulating and . . . okay, fine, if I'm already going as far as stimulating then, um . . . sexy? But only in a scandalous, living-out-a-bad-girl-fantasy kind of way, obviously!'_

If God _had_ made one mistake it was making it possible to blush at your own thoughts. It was a serious design flaw.

"Hey, what are you thinking about?"

She held her head up to see Finn giving her a gentle smile – in her weakened state it unarmed her with its innocence.

"Rachel." The name clearly surprised him. Not as much as it did her. "Not in a . . . I . . . We . . . uh," _'Pick a reason, Fabray!' _ "We had words again earlier. After Glee. She was being her usual obnoxious self." That much was true. "And I was just thinking how much she would kill to be in my position right now."

She grinned, happy with her lie, but he didn't return it, obviously.

"Sorry, so that's mean. Whatever."

"I wish you two could just get along."

"That's never going to happen." Something that also seemed to be true.

"She's a nice person, Quinn."

"Not to me, she's not." Another truth, well a half truth at least.

"That's because you're always mean to her." Another truth, full one this time.

"She deserves it." Okay, that was an out and out lie, and she'd been doing so well.

"But she doesn't. So she dresses kind of old fashioned and weird and like has these really strong opinions that can make her kind of annoying sometimes, but that doesn't mean she deserves you picking on her all the time."

"Can we stop talking about Manhands now? God, it's like you're obsessed with her or something."

It was a thin line to tread, seeing as she was the one who'd brought her up, but Finn just looked worried.

"I'm not. I just like her. As a friend! She's pretty cool when you get to know her." Truth – but not one Quinn wanted pointed out to her right now.

"Okay, I'm sorry. Can we just forget about her now though?"

She kissed him and for a little while neither of them mentioned Rachel's name again.

"She's just so frustrating!"

Finn looked startled. "Who?" She gave him a 'duh' look and he sounded even more panicked as he repeated, "Who?"

"Rachel!"

"Oh. Yeah, she can be but that's just because she wants to win so bad. She doesn't mean to piss everyone off, she's just, I don't know, like she has her eyes on the goal and people kind of get flattened by accident."

"What do you mean?" she asked, intrigued by the idea of getting Rachel-insight from possibly the one person in school who had actually taken the time to get to know the girl.

"Well, it's like . . . you know how when you get the football and suddenly all you can see is the end zone? Everything else fades out because you know you have the power to get that touchdown if you just have the guts to make it happen. So you just . . . _charge_ and you don't even see the guys in your way, even though you're getting hit left and right, the only thing you can focus on is holding that ball in your arms as tight as you can and running. And you don't even notice all those guys you're driving through, even the really big ones, it's like they're not even there because you're just running to where you _need_ to be. And then when you score the touchdown you turn around and are, like, whoa, how did all those other guys end up on the ground, I didn't even feel that happening."

Quinn had been listening carefully, waiting for that part the made sense about Rachel. "I don't understand."

"Rachel's like that. She knocks everyone down without realizing it because all she can see is that thing she wants – you know, like solos and winning Glee competitions and stuff like that."

She frowned, "You know you're not painting your _friend _in a favorable light there. Telling me she's happy to knock us all down so that _she _can win is not going to make me suddenly like her."

Finn grinned. "You didn't let me finish. When Rachel stands there, the ball bouncing behind her, and sees all the people she ploughed to the ground, she's not like the guys on the team. She's sorry about it. And she, like, walks back up the field, picking people up and dusting the grass of their asses and apologizing and stuff. Like she did when she came to Glee just in time to help us sing '_Somebody to Love' _for the Invitational_. _She doesn't mean to upset people, I think she just doesn't always think because she's so focused on what's important to her."

"Okay."

Did any of this apply to what was going on between them? If it did it didn't look promising, because Rachel certainly wasn't knocking people down to get her. If anything she was knocking people down – Quinn down – to get away from her.

"Okay you'll stop picking on her now?" he sounded hopeful.

"No, just okay I think we're done talking about her now."

"Quinn . . ."

"Look, would you rather be _making out_ with me or trying to convince me why I should be best buddies with Berry?"

She nearly head butted him in the mouth when he took a second to think about it. Lucky for him he chose wisely.

"Making out with you."

"Thank you."

He didn't seem to mind that her kisses were angry and aggressive all of a sudden. Although he did mumble at one point, "You and Rachel actually have a lot in common when you think about it."

"Take that back!" she mumbled.

He grinned into the kiss. "You do. You probably would be best buddies if you gave her a chance."

She'd thought that herself, although she knew she'd never be happy just being _best buddies _with Rachel now. Whatever was between them made her feel too much. It was why she was so scared to offer her real friendship; the thought that it wouldn't stay that way for long and she would be the reason why. She could admit that to herself now, Friday night and this afternoon had kind of made it impossible to forget how she felt or put it down to only curiosity, but that didn't stop her from hating it and hating herself for feeling it.

"Maybe we could invite her over for some Mario Kart tonight. You two could get to know each other better."

Too much of her wanted to say yes. And knowing that Rachel would probably turn the invite down purely on the grounds that Quinn was involved made her angry.

"No!"

"It could be fun. And she's never played before so you'd at least get some satisfaction out of beating her."

That could be fun . . . No! She had to stop thinking about fucking Berry!

"Finn, if I let you touch my breast will you shut up about freaking Rachel for five minutes while we're supposed to be making out?"

He pulled back abruptly and thank God there was at least one way to get a direct line to a teenage boy's brain.

"Under your shirt?"

Hell, she'd take her shirt _off _right now if she thought it would take _her _mind off of Rachel too.

"Over the bra," she said curtly, before kissing him again.

He wasn't slow in coming forward and she gasped when her left breast was completely engulfed by his right hand. It wasn't the first time she'd let him get as far as second base, but it never felt any less invasive and strange to let someone put their hands on her chest. She'd heard from the locker room and read in magazines that it was supposed to be just as fun for the girl as the boy but she couldn't attest to that. She'd been just as excited as he the first time she'd granted Finn permission to 'go there', expecting to get something amazing from the experience; instead she'd spent the next two weeks wondering if her nipples were somehow defective. By the time Puck laid his soft, meaty hands on her she'd already resigned herself to never feeling more than a sense of intrusive, uncomfortable pressure, both of the physical and metaphysical variety.

Finn, it had to be said, certainly did not share her apathy and after few seconds of nervous groping he froze completely. Seriously? Already? But then he relaxed back into it and she smiled despite herself. This might not be doing as much for her as it was for him but at least it was distracting. She hadn't thought about Rachel for at least . . .

Okay, that was stupid.

It was like ten minutes ago all over again. How different would this feel if it was . . .? No, do not go there!

Too late.

Crap! Did she actually just moan?

"Is this okay?"

"Yeah, don't stop."

"Okay."

Finn at least sounded more breathless than she did.

From experience Rachel's hand would be smaller, softer, gentler, less squeezing more caressing, knowing where to . . . Like he was reading her mind a thumb dragged gently over her covered nipple.

"Ohhhhh."

Okay, maybe not more breathless anymore.

"Sorry, did I . . ."

"Stop talking."

To drive her point home she kissed him deeply, until her lungs were burning and she had to drag her lips away. Her mouth moved to his neck. It tasted nearly as salty as his lips had from the tears but it smelled like it always did, like him and his shower gel, a hint of lime above the general clean boy scent.

She preferred lemon to lime these days but it was still nice. His neck was soft and warm under her lips, smooth against her tongue and she sucked hungrily like she'd wanted to earlier with R . . .

No!

Yes!

No!

YES!

She could feel Finn's hand sliding down over her ass – like if he did it slow enough she wouldn't notice – and she didn't even care.

"Kiss my ear."

"What?"

"Finn, just _kiss_ my _ear_!"

"Oh!"

He did so and it made a sort of smacking noise that reverberated in her ear canal. She winced and it nearly pulled her from the moment before he got it together, moving his mouth at little so that his lips travelled in small pecks around the outside, up and then down.

"Like this?" he mumbled.

"Yeah." She sucked on his neck hard and his hand squeezed her ass. Why couldn't his hand be smaller? "More though. Like . . ."

She quickly showed him what she wanted before he could ask and then moved back to kissing his neck. Rachel's soft lips . . . Gah, _Finn's_ soft lips closed around her ear lobe, gently sucking for a few seconds before his tongue swirled around the outer lip.

"Yes, like _that_!"

"Uh . . . Oh . . . uh . . . Q-Quinn . . . uh . . ."

It was only as the hand left her breast to tightly grip her side that she realized she was grinding down hard against a suddenly very prominent part of him. It wasn't like she hadn't been able to feel it before; she just hadn't been paying much – any – attention to how this was affecting him.

She almost didn't want to stop now but it was suddenly much _harder _to give in to the pull of her fantasy and as soon as the spell was broken she was mortified by her own behavior.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry."

"I'm not, I just . . ."

She wasn't even listening as she rolled off of him, pulling his hand from beneath her top so she could get away and sit up on the edge of the bed, hiding her ragged breathing from his eyes if not his ears.

"Are you okay?"

She didn't, couldn't, answer. She was very much _not _okay.

"Did you, like, wanna pray or something?"

He sounded so frustrated and yet concerned at the same time that if she wasn't feeling like she currently was she would have laughed.

"Yes," her voice was shaky as she slipped off of the edge of the bed to her knees, facing away from him.

Her eyes closed as she clasped her hands in front of her but she took a few seconds to compose herself before she reached out.

'_Jesus, what is _wrong _with me?'_

_What do you think is wrong with you?_

'_I'm pretty sure I just fantasized about another girl while making out with my boyfriend.'_

_No, that's what you did, not what's wrong with you._

'_Then what is wrong with me?'_

_What do you think?_

'_You're normally more helpful than this.'_

_No, I'm not. You know what the answer is. You just have to admit it._

'_I've already admitted I like her!'_

_Then maybe that's not the answer._

'_So, I don't like her?'_

When Jesus rolled his eyes it was disconcerting. _Or you're asking the wrong question._

'_How do I know what the right question is then?'_

_What do you really want to know?_

'_Is it okay to like her?' _she guessed.

_That's up to you._

'_Is it okay for her to know I like her?'_

_That's up to you._

'_It's not okay to do what I just did.'_

_No._

'_He's my boyfriend.'_

_Yes._

'_I like Rachel.'_

_Yes._

'_More.'_

_I figured._

'_That sounded more like me than you.'_

_That's because it was._

'_Oh. Okay. It's not always easy to tell the difference.'_

_That's why we call it having faith._

'_Oh. What do I do now?'_

_Trust your faith.'_

'_So I should shun Rachel and my feelings for her and stay with Finn forever?'_

_Is that really what you believe?_

'_No.'_

_There you go then. You need to do whatever it takes to make you happy._

'_That sounded like me again.'_

_No, that was all me._

'_Are you messing with me?'_

_Do you not think God wants you to be happy?_

'_Even if it means hurting Finn?'_

_The challenge here is to be happy without hurting Finn. At least more than you can help._

'_Okay, I'm sorry if I'm wrong, but I'm still pretty convinced I'm just talking to myself here.'_

_What will it take to convince you otherwise?_

'_Oh, I don't know, maybe you could turn my bottle of water into a wine cooler?'_

_Isn't that how you got into this mess in the first place?_

'_You're trying to tell me wine coolers make you _gay_!'_

"Uh, Quinn, I don't wanna interrupt, but you've been praying for, like, fifteen minutes now. Do you need me to call your pastor or something?"

"Amen. Sorry." Quinn sat back on the edge of the bed. "That was just intense."

"Yeah." Finn grinned. "It was awesome." Well, at least he wasn't hurt yet. "Are you okay though? I didn't go too far, did I? I mean you seemed pretty into it but I kind of got, yunno, carried away at the end there."

Except he hadn't, _she_ had! He'd been as much of a gentleman as a sixteen year old boy in that situation could have been. He was so good to her and she was so terrible to him, in ways he didn't even know. She felt tears well up because she _never_ wanted to hurt him again.

"Hey, you're crying!" He moved closer to her on the bed and she tensed until he just put his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. "I'm so sorry. Really. I didn't mean to . . ."

"You were fine, Finn!" She couldn't believe she was sobbing into his chest over this. "You're perfect."

She could feel him smile against her forehead. "Is this a baby hormone thing?"

She didn't know. "Maybe."

"Do you want me to get you that sandwich now?"

Oh God, how could that make her cry harder?

"Yes please."

Mostly she just wanted a minute to calm down.

He kissed the top of her head before letting go and standing up. "What would you like?"

"Do you have any piccalilli?" she sniffed.

His nose wrinkled, "I doubt it."

"Oh. Anything's fine then."

"Bacon?"

That actually sounded good and she nodded.

"You want to wait here?"

"If you don't mind."

He gave her a grin and left the room. As the door slowly closed behind him she lay back on the bed.

Why was everything such a hot damn mess? Wasn't being pregnant at sixteen by a guy who wasn't Finn enough? Now she had to deal with the fact that she liked someone else too. And not in the way she'd _liked_ Puck their one night together but in a way that involved actual feelings that she apparently couldn't ignore anymore.

Add to that it was another girl! Did this actually make her gay now? It was different to just thinking, yunno, perhaps girls might be better company on dates or secretly wondering if they kissed better than boys. This was more than that; it wasn't just a . . . a speculation or a passing fancy, she was _into _a girl, badly, she couldn't stop _thinking _about her! But was it possible she just liked this girl and once that was out of her system she'd go right back to liking boys? Liking Finn? Had she ever liked Finn, or any boy, the way she liked . . .?

And that was another thing! Fine, be gay or whatever, life was full of surprises, she could roll with the punches, but did her punch have to be packed full of Rachel-_freaking_-Berry? Of all the cruel jokes to play on her . . .

Rachel didn't even _like_ her. She may still have been harboring a physical crush if that afternoon in the bathroom was anything to go by, but emotionally it had only made Rachel hate her. She'd never hated her before! In fact it seemed as though Rachel had liked her a hell of a lot more _before _Quinn had ever developed these horrible feelings.

So she didn't just have to cope with being gay, she had to cope with being terrible at it too!

'_I'm _not_ gay!'_

She stared at the ceiling, tiredly wiping the tears from her face.

'_I don't even care if I am! But I do _not _like Rachel Berry!'_

Santana was hot, and you didn't need to be gay to see that. She imagined kissing her friend's neck while grinding on top of her as she been with Finn.

It didn't exactly turn her off but she couldn't picture ever actually doing it either. Maybe if she was drunk . . .

So Santana was her female version of Puck. That was okay. What was her female version of Finn?

It wasn't Rachel.

Brittany, maybe? Yeah, probably.

So what did that make Rachel?

'_Nothing! Rachel is nothing!'_

Cursing her brain, she rolled to her side and hugged an arm around Finn's pillow.

'_If she's nothing why can I literally not stop obsessing about her?'_

Finn's cell phone was on the chair by his bed.

No.

He was frying bacon for her; she probably had another five minutes at least. That's if he didn't burn the first lot which, from experience, she knew he was prone to doing.

Her hand reached for the phone like she had no control over it.

He's frying bacon for you! Probably twice! Doesn't that mean anything to you?

'_It means I have about another five minutes.'_

She found the number she was looking for and hit call. It was picked up after just two rings.

"_Hello, Finn, how are you this evening?"_

"It's not Finn, it's me." She hated that her voice still sounded a little snivelly.

There was a pause and then an audibly weary sigh on the other end. _"I see. In that case, hello Quinn, how are you this evening?"_

Quinn smiled even though the greeting sounded forced this time around. "I'm okay. How are you?"

"_Honestly? Suspicious as to why you are calling me on Finn's phone."_

Oh for God's sake, couldn't she just throw her one measly bone and not be such a jerk all the time?

As she didn't really know why she'd phoned, other than because she'd wanted to, Quinn played it safe. "Finn and I were talking, we wondered if you wanted to come over and play Mario Kart with us."

"_I see, and what's in it for you?"_

Quinn stared down at Finn's bedspread, her breathing was all funny and it took her a second to tell the truth. "You'd be over here playing Mario Kart with us."

It was Rachel's turn to pause and her voice sounded less disdainful when she finally spoke. "_Oh. I . . . I appreciate the invite but I'm afraid I can't. Maybe another night_."

"Why not?"

"_I have homework to do."_

"Blow it off. Finn really wants you to come over and I . . . I wouldn't be totally against spending some time with you tonight." She grinned, hoping her playful tone was carrying over.

Apparently it wasn't. Or Rachel just didn't care. _"I'm not blowing off homework to play video games, Quinn!"_

"Fine!" With difficulty she calmed her tone and changed the subject. "I picked your scarf up after school. It's as good as new. Do you want me to bring it over?"

"_When?"_

"When I leave Finn's. I won't be here much longer."

"_Then why ask me over to play Mario Kart for the evening if you're not going to be there?"_

"Maybe I would be here if you were going to be here but you're not!" she growled into the phone. Footsteps could be heard on the stairs. "I have to go. I'll be there in half an hour."

She had the phone back on the chair by the time Finn pushed open his bedroom door and she sat up slowly like she hadn't heard him coming.

She rubbed her eyes, "Hey, I was almost asleep."

He sat down next to her on the bed, passing her the plate. "You can take a nap after you've eaten if you like. Then we can study. Or watch something on TV without sharks."

She returned his smile as fully as she could. "I think I'm just going to go home, actually, and go to bed. I'm really kind of tired. Sorry."

She shoved the sandwich in her mouth before he could argue or ask questions.


	30. Here We Go Again

Hey guys, Happy New Year!

(Thanks for all the reviews for the last chapter, you guys rock.)

**Chapter Thirty:**

**Here We Go Again.**

Despite how chilly it was outside, Rachel's bedroom window was open so that she would get a little warning if a car pulled into her drive. She didn't really expect one to, at least not until much later when her dads returned home, but she really wasn't sure what purpose prank-calling her about stopping by would serve for Quinn. This was the only way she could think to prepare for the unlikely event of the head cheerleader actually showing up on her doorstep. And with Cheerios, as with any of life's more trying aspects, any preparation was better than none.

A nervous glance at her clock showed it was quarter to seven when she heard a vehicle slow in the street – at least three hours earlier than she expected her fathers back – and the familiar bump-bump of tires travelling over the curb into her driveway and then the engine being shut off. It was just over twenty-eight minutes since she had received the phone call. Rachel's heart started racing and her palms were sweating despite the low temperature in the room and, _oh, Barbra_, what was she _doing_ here? Didn't she at least deserve her home to be a Quinn-free sanctuary?

Setting her pen down carefully, she took a slow walk from her bedroom and down the stairs. She was halfway down when the doorbell rang. She still wasn't sure she even wanted to answer it.

And the way she rushed down the final three steps proved she was a liar. She did pause long enough to straighten her skirt and run a hand through her hair before opening the door though.

"Hello, Quinn."

"Hello."

They stood staring at each other for several seconds.

"It's freezing out here, Berry!"

"Then give me my scarf and you can get back in your warm car."

Quinn's jaw dropped, "Are you kidding me? I just left Finn's to come and see you."

Rachel huffed, but as much as she wanted to say 'And?' she could see Quinn shivering and moved to the side, reluctantly waving her in.

"I didn't ask you to," she said as she closed the door again.

"I know."

They stood awkwardly in the foyer. Quinn seemed even more nervous than her, probably because she was hating every second of being there. That was hardly Rachel's fault though. As she'd said, she hadn't asked the girl to arrive on her doorstep.

"Are your parents home?"

"No. My Dad is meeting a client after work and won't be home until late and my Daddy just left for his night shift. Do not think that means I am unprotected though. I still have my rape whistle and there are panic buttons all over the house."

Quinn smiled. "Really?"

"Perhaps not _all _over the house," she admitted because the smile didn't seem too threatening.

"Can I see them?"

"It is not good practice to show an intruder where the panic buttons are, Quinn."

"I'm not an intruder, you just let me in."

"That doesn't make you any less of an intruder."

They stared at each other for long enough that Quinn's smile slipped completely away and she stared at the floor. It was uncharacteristically meek of her but Rachel wasn't going to be lulled into sympathy for what could only be a ruse of some kind.

"Do you have my scarf?"

"Sure."

Quinn pulled it out of her bag and handed it over. After checking it thoroughly, Rachel could see no sign that it had ever been slushied and she relented a little.

"Thank you. As a gift from my Daddy this scarf means a lot to me and I truly appreciate the effort you went through to have it cleaned, especially as I was to blame for slushying you."

"It's fine. I didn't pay for it or anything. Just don't tell Coach Sylvester I put it in with the Cheerios uniforms and we're good."

"Well, I still appreciate it."

She was suddenly fixed with piercing hazel eyes. "You wanted a gesture of honesty and trust, right?"

Caught off guard, she just nodded.

"I'm giving my baby to Mrs. Schuester."

"What?"

"Nobody else knows. Not Finn or Mr. Schue or anybody else. Just her, me . . . and now you."

Rachel blinked a few times. "What?"

"She thought she was pregnant but it turns out she isn't and she's convinced Mr. Schue will leave her if he finds out so she's tricking him into thinking she still is and she's going to use my baby to do so."

Rachel scrubbed her palm over her face. "Okay, what?"

"It's like an adoption but without the formalities. She wants a baby and I have one that I can't keep." Quinn's voice was unwavering but there were tears trickling down her cheeks now. "It's not perfect but . . ."

Rachel felt like she'd just walked onto the set of some crazy sitcom and nobody had given her an advanced copy of the script, but before she had time to let it affect her Quinn's voice trailed off and she covered her crumpled face with her hands.

Giving herself a mental shake, she pulled one of Quinn's hand's gently away from her face and tugged on it. "Let's go to my room."

She was surprised by the quiet, "Thank you."

In her bedroom she ushered Quinn towards the bed and then pulled her desk chair up close before sitting down. As an afterthought she grabbed the box of tissues from her dresser and handed them over.

"Do you need to cry for a minute before we talk about this?"

Quinn gave her a watery smile as she dabbed at her eyes. "No, I'm good."

"Okay." She had no idea where to start after being bombarded by so much unbelievable information. "Mr. and Mrs. Schuester are adopting your baby?"

"Unofficially. And Mr. Schue doesn't know. He's going to think it's his."

"That's . . ."

"Wrong. I know. But can you imagine a dad who will love his baby more than Mr.

Schue?"

"I was going to say unexpected, but I agree with both of your points too."

"Oh."

"Although I also think you're underestimating Finn's capabilities to love his child."

She'd expected a snarky comment, not the sudden outpouring of even more noisy tears.

Quinn tried to stem them with fistful of tissues. "I did! I thought I'd be letting him off the hook. That he'd be happy but . . ."

"So you have told him?"

"No, I just c-casually mentioned adoption. I was just trying to broach the subject so that when I did tell him it wouldn't be a major surprise."

"And he didn't take it very well?"

"He said it was my decision but he looked . . ." Quinn held the tissues to her eyes again for a few seconds and Rachel could see her chest heaving as she tried to control her sobs. Okay, less looking at her chest would be helpful now. ". . . heartbroken."

"Maybe it was because he wasn't expecting it. Given time to think he might decide this is what's best for both of you and the baby. Is that what you think?"

Quinn nodded and then shook her head; another wave of sobs overtook her. "I don't want to give away my baby but I know I can't look after it. I'm sixteen! I'm still in high school. Maybe if it was senior year it wouldn't be so bad but . . . My parents are going to disown me when they find out, Finn's Mom can barely keep a decent roof over their heads working two jobs. We're not going to get any financial help from them. I can't even afford my doctors bills now! How are we going to cope when the baby's actually here?"

Quinn sounded like she was shouting at her, like it was all Rachel's fault, but she made herself take a step back and see her rant objectively for what it was. A scared girl reaching out for help, for possibly the first time in her life knowing what she did of Quinn's pride.

"Quinn, calm down. It'll be . . ."

"No!" Her fist pounded the bed. "Finn gets to freak out, why can't I? I have to comfort _him_ . . . who ever wants to do that for _me_? Nobody! I'm dealing with so much more and I can't cope any more, Rachel!"

She was out of the chair and on the bed in a flash. She sat very close to the crying girl, putting what she hoped was a comforting hand on her arm.

"Can I help?"

Quinn's forehead was pressed against her neck even before Rachel's arms were around her shoulders – nose first and she might have been suspicious but she could feel the hot tears falling against her skin. She tightened her hold and scrunched her own eyes closed as she tried to figure out how to deal with this.

"It's going to be okay, Quinn. I'm not sure Mrs. Schuester lying to her husband is exactly healthy." To put it mildly. "But you were right, Mr. Schue will be a great dad, and you and Finn are too young to deal with this. Ultimately you have to think of the baby."

"That's what I said," Quinn sobbed.

"And you were right."

"And I want to keep cheerleading," Quinn croaked.

Rachel rolled her eyes but patted her back. "That's okay too."

"And I don't want Finn to have to quit school."

This was safer ground. "That's very commendable."

"Am I a terrible person?"

Rachel couldn't help herself, "Not because of this."

Quinn pulled her head up and gave her a fierce but watery glare. Rachel grinned at her.

"I know I probably deserve that but could you have picked your timing a little better?"

"I think I timed it pretty well."

The glare lasted for a little longer before Quinn chuckled and sat up straight. She grabbed some more tissues to wipe her face.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Rachel tentatively placed her hand over Quinn's and was rewarded when Quinn turned hers over to link their fingers.

* * *

><p>They sat in a comfortable silence, just holding hands, until the last of her sniffles had died away and she didn't need to keep swiping tears from her cheeks with her free hand.<p>

Then it became less comfortable.

Quinn didn't even know where that had come from!

On the drive over she had decided to tell Rachel about Mrs. Schuester – as a gesture of honesty or whatever like she'd said – but she hadn't meant to break down over it! She hadn't realized just how much she needed to talk to someone about all of this. Or maybe she had that night at the bowling alley and this was just the first opportunity. Thinking about it, ever since that night she hadn't wanted to talk to anyone _but _Rachel about it but they'd pretty much been fighting ever since.

Still, she felt the need to say, "Sorry for offloading on you like that. I know this isn't close to being your problem."

"I don't mind. We can talk about it some more if you'd like."

"Thanks, but I can't." She couldn't handle any more of this tonight. After everything that had happened with Finn and now her own emotional breakdown, she was exhausted. "Maybe some other time though . . . maybe."

"I'll be here."

Quinn nodded and squeezed her fingers gently. Then she noticed the open books all over the desk. "I'm keeping you from your homework."

"It's only history. I hate history."

"Me too. Well, not all of history. Just the Second World War. It's so depressing!"

"I _know_! Give me History of Musical Theatre and I'd ace it but gas chambers just make me want to cry."

"I like the history of civil rights. Give me suffragettes over Nazis any day."

They shared a small smile.

"So have you done the questions set today?"

"I was just about to start. I did Math first. And when you willingly do Math first you know there's something wrong. Have you?"

"I tried to start them at Finn's but then we got sidetracked by the baby talk."

Among other things but she wasn't going to share those. In fact, if she was completely honest it was a little embarrassing just to be sat this close to Rachel after the things she'd been thinking earlier.

"Did you want to . . .? I mean if we both have to do it anyway . . ."

Quinn nodded. "I'll just get my bag. I left it downstairs."

"I'll get it." Rachel was already rising from the bed. "Did you want a drink or something too?"

"If that's okay?"

Why did she suddenly feel shy?

"You like Dr Pepper, right?"

"Uh-huh, I guess."

Quinn wasn't sure why Rachel assumed such a thing, but she wasn't wrong and she felt she could use the sugar high right now.

"I'll be right back. Make yourself comfortable."

* * *

><p>Rachel had started off back at her desk while Quinn sat primly on the edge of the bed but it soon became clear it was much easier to make fun of each other's answers if they were sat together on the floor, so that's how they'd been for the last half an hour.<p>

"Hitler's right hand man was not called Mr. Assholestien!"

"How can you be so sure?" Quinn challenged, poking her leg with her toe. The unexpected contact made Rachel feel warm inside and out. A feeling that was unfamiliar but unsettlingly enjoyable.

She did her best to ignore it.

"Because it sounds like a Jewish name, so while I can't find the proof right now," she said, flicking furiously through the textbook they were sharing. "I think it's unlikely."

"Fair enough." Quinn shrugged and wrote something else down on her paper.

Rachel leaned towards her to take a look at it. "Mr. Asshole_burger_?"

Quinn started laughing at her tone. "What? It sounds German."

"It sounds obscene!"

They giggled until Quinn's stomach suddenly let out a loud lengthy gurgle.

"Was that the baby giggling too or are you _really _hungry?"

Quinn chuckled some more as she sat up, looking a little embarrassed. "The second one. I should probably go home and eat."

Rachel didn't want her to go. "Or you could eat here."

"I don't want to put you out and I'm sure you've already eaten so . . ."

"I haven't. Well, only a snack when I got home from school. Didn't you eat at Finn's?"

"He made me a bacon sandwich." She looked like she remembered it fondly. "But I let him have half because I didn't want to be late coming over here."

"I wouldn't have turned you away if you'd taken another ten minutes to eat."

"You nearly turned me away when I came over here on time."

Rachel looked down at the carpet, fiddling idly with the edge of the textbook. It was true she hadn't wanted to let Quinn in but she was so glad she had. They'd had fun . . . doing history homework of all things! This was a side of Quinn she'd caught glimpses of in the past month but having just spent nearly an hour with her she was even more enamored than ever.

She knew it was dangerous; she would end up getting hurt again and this period of closeness would just make it hurt all the more, but maybe that was just all the more reason to not let it go yet. She'd already dug the hole. She might as well enjoy playing in it for a while before she was buried alive.

She looked back to see Quinn watching her intently, like she was assessing her in some way, and it made her frown. Seeing this, Quinn jerked her eyes away, clearing her throat like she'd been caught out doing something she shouldn't. It made Rachel nervous, because she didn't know why the cheerleader was even here in the first place – hanging out in her room like they were actually friends – but she knew there had to be a reason, and judging by past experience it probably wasn't one she would like.

Quinn's behavior towards her recently had been so baffling. She felt, due to the last few weeks, she should be getting used to the revolving door of Quinn's many faces but each about-turn just made her that much more concerned about her ultimate motives.

It was hardly surprising when one minute Quinn was threatening her in a broom closet and the next protecting her from Santana. Or going from cruelly propositioning her in the afternoon to crying in her arms in the evening. There had to be some deeper meaning behind it all but Rachel was at a loss to know what it could be.

Was this what true friendship was really like? She'd always thought it would be more straightforward. In plays and movies and books you had your friends and you had your enemies, Your friends had your back no matter the odds and your enemies, well the those you worked with your friends to crush into tiny pieces of regret and self-loathing. The current Berry-Fabray Glee war was a good example of that, except . . . _except _Berry _and _Fabray were _currently _sharing her personal floor space in what could only be described as an amicable fashion.

So what did that make them? Was Quinn Fabray friend or foe? How was Rachel supposed to know?

She felt, with all of this uncertainty, that if she was ever going to get what she really wanted (well not what she _really _wanted, but if they were ever going to be true _friends_) she had to figure out what was going on in Quinn's head. Then, if the blonde turned really nasty again once she realized that Rachel really was done pandering to her every need, when she was receiving nothing but false offerings in return, maybe Rachel could prepare herself for it.

So, Operation: Bright New Outlook was shifting its parameters out of necessity for survival. No looking, no talking, no touching was about to be turned on its head. One way or another she was sure she could get Quinn to come clean about her true intentions.

And when better to start than right now?

"We could order a pizza," she offered brightly.

Quinn hesitated before eventually saying, "Okay."

Rachel hopped up to fetch her phone from her desk.

"What toppings would you like?"

"You have the pizza place number on your cell phone?"

She grinned as she scrolled for it. "We take take-out very seriously around here. I also have Thai, Japanese and the Burger Shack at the touch of a button. Not that I eat burgers but they do make a fairly nice rocket salad."

"I picked last time so it's your turn."

"Are you sure?" Rachel's thumb hovered over the call button. "I usually get the Veggie Supreme."

Quinn's nose wrinkled in distaste and Rachel decided it was adorable when her clothes weren't the cause of it. "Just vegetables?"

She chuckled, "They have a half and half option. I won't force you to eat healthily if you don't want to."

"I do eat healthily, but . . . it's _pizza_. Healthy isn't really on the menu to start with so why ruin a good chance to pig out by loading it with veg?"

"I'm ordering now." She pointedly held the phone to her ear. "So you can continue to mock me and be forced to eat ruined pizza _or _you can tell me what toppings you want on your half."

"I wasn't mocking you," Quinn began quietly before realizing, as Rachel greeted the person on the other end of the line, that her time was almost up. "Uh, meat. Lots of meat. Anything meaty."

"One second, Paulo." Rachel pulled the phone from her ear. "Could you be a little more specific, please Quinn?"

Quinn shrugged, grinning slightly, and Rachel felt good for causing it, even if it didn't help her order.

She put the phone back to her ear. "Hi. On the other half can we have . . . I don't know, is there like an exact opposite of the Veggie Supreme? Like a Meat Supreme? . . . Oh, there is? Right, that's what we'll have then. . . . Large. . . . Thank you, Paulo. How long? That will be fine. Thank you!"

While she cancelled the call, Quinn said, "It's called a Meat-feast Deluxe."

"Yes, Paulo just told me."

"You're on first name terms with the pizza guy?"

"Not all of them. Just Paulo. And Ricardo. . . . And Pip."

"Pip?"

"Philippe."

"Wow, you really get around."

Something about Quinn's tone irked her. No, everything about her tone actually.

"What is that supposed to mean? Just because I take the time to learn someone's name – something I've noted you have trouble with incidentally – I must be . . . be _putting myself about _with every Italian in town?"

Surprisingly, Quinn looked chastised. "No, I just . . . look, I didn't mean anything by it! Jeez, why are you always so defensive around me?"

"Hmm, I wonder?"

It was sarcastic and she fully expected Quinn to lash back at her, possibly before gathering her things and storming out, and it did look like that was going to happen for a few seconds, but then Quinn relaxed – with difficulty, from the looks of it – and shook her head.

"I get it."

That was all she said, but it was enough to make Rachel back down. "The pizza will be here in forty-five minutes. Apparently they're really busy tonight."

"That's fine. It'll hopefully give us just enough time to finish this." Quinn gestured at the homework spread around them. "Trying to do it after will probably just give me indigestion."

Rachel smiled and sat back down on the floor, pulling her History notebook closer to her as Quinn read out the next question

It didn't take long to see that things were suddenly uncomfortable between them again.

Not completely, they both still came up with silly answers and chuckled over them, but it felt forced now in a way it hadn't been before. Rachel kicked herself for ruining the atmosphere, even though she still felt that taking Quinn's comment at face value had been the right thing to do. The way she'd said it . . . it hadn't just been a joke, there had been something in her tone that had implied she was disapproving of Rachel knowing the names of the men that ran the nearest pizza parlor. Which was ridiculous, obviously, especially now, which was why it had struck a nerve.

It was just another oddity in a long line of Quinn behaving oddly around her.

Obviously it all led to the fact that she couldn't wait for Quinn to come to her – although Quinn had come to her tonight, another oddity – if she was going to get to the bottom of this. She had to be proactive. She was a firm believer in the phrase 'You can't move forward by standing still.'

"Can I ask you something?"

They'd been quiet for nearly ten minutes, Quinn searching through the textbook for the next answer while Rachel had been doodling in her margins while thinking, so it was a little surprising when Quinn simply rolled to her side, propping her head on a hand, like she'd been waiting all night for this question that Rachel had only just thought of.

"You're going to ask why I left Finn's to come over here."

That was uncanny. "Yes."

"And you're probably scared to leave me alone in case I suddenly run out of the house with a basket of your clean laundry."

She hadn't been thinking that but she probably should have been. "Maybe a little."

Quinn smirked, which didn't really put her at ease but she liked it anyway – darn, she had it so bad now!

"I don't know what to tell you, except that I had no agenda when I came over here. I just wanted to give you your scarf back, and on the way over I decided to tell you about . . . what I told you about."

"Why? I mean, why did you decide to tell me?"

"I thought if I shared something personal with you, you would stop thinking I'm playing you."

"But why?"

"I want you to feel like you can trust me."

"Why?"

Quinn smiled, "You use that word far too often!"

"I'm sorry. Why though?"

She laughed quietly this time. "No, no more why's. If you want to ask another question you have to do it without a 'why'."

Rachel grinned. "Why?"

Quinn just shook her head.

What could she ask that didn't include a 'why'? All she had was 'why's'! Why was Quinn here? Why were things so easy one minute and then strange the next between them? Why did she have a crush on the girl who enjoyed making her life hell? Why did Quinn seem to like encouraging it? Was it just for sport, or was there a bigger reason there?

The last question was stupid, because she knew the answer. Quinn only acted like that when she wanted something.

She couldn't ask: 'What do you want?' though because that would definitely kill the mood between them. She thought hard for an alternative.

"So what made you leave Finn's when you did?"

"I told you."

"But you could have dropped my scarf off later. It wasn't as if I was expecting you before you called."

"I don't know. I guess our evening had run its course already. I was bored."

"You get _bored_ of Finn?"

Quinn's eyes narrowed. "Can you make your crush on my boyfriend a little less obvious when I'm around please?"

Quinn still thought she had a crush on Finn? Where had she been the last few weeks?

Obviously she could still see the handsome leading man appeal of him but she hadn't really thought about him as a potential romantic interest since she'd discovered her feelings for his girlfriend.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean that I could never be bored of him. It's just . . . he's your boyfriend, aren't you supposed to be infatuated with every little thing he does?"

"Am I?"

Rachel didn't know how to take the non-committal answer or the suddenly trapped look in Quinn's eyes. She thought it might be time to change the subject but Quinn started speaking again.

"I am, to a point, but there's only so much infatuation I can take in one day. It's not like we were on a date or anything, we were just hanging out after school."

"Oh." Rachel was sure her next question was going to sound stupid but it had suddenly brought up something she had been thinking about since earlier, before Quinn had called and stolen all of her thoughts. "Can I ask . . . what's the difference between hanging out with him and being on a date with him?"

Quinn struggled for an answer, probably because it was a weird thing to ask, before blurting out, "_I_ don't know, less pleasantries, more making out?"

"Oh." She'd been scared of that. Well, not scared, concerned perhaps.

Quinn seemed to read it on her face and looked embarrassed. "He's my boyfriend, of course I'm going to make out with him occasionally!"

The almost angry tone surprised her. She'd only said 'oh'.

"I know that."

"Look, I'm sorry if you have a problem with it, but I don't have to defend myself to you."

"I never asked you to! Why would I care what you're doing with Finn?" she asked, confused by the sudden mild but inexplicable attack. "It's none of my business."

"Sure, you don't care." Quinn rolled her eyes. "Look, if we're going to be doing . . ." Again lost for the right word, she waved her finger back and forth between them and the room and the homework spread out around them. ". . . _this_. You can't start . . ."

"Can't start what?" It was clear they were on two different wave-lengths but right now she was more interested in what Quinn was getting at than sorting it out.

"Getting jealous!" Quinn snapped, and then looked guilty for snapping and lowered her eyes to the carpet. "It's not fair."

Rachel started laughing because, well of course she was jealous but considering what she'd been trying to say it was pretty amusing. Quinn didn't look at all happy with her reaction so she hurried to explain.

"I'm not jealous of Finn. I fully understand he is your boyfriend, Quinn, and that you want to be intimate with him. I was just wondering, if he wasn't and you were single and someone, say a friend, who you sort of knew liked you, asked you to _hang out_ – would it be rational to assume it was because they wanted to make out with you?"

Quinn pushed herself up into a sitting position, braced on one arm, back pressed hard to the side the bed, looking like a cornered animal. "That's not why I came over here!"

"I'm sorry?"

"And _you_ asked _me_ to hang out. I was just bringing the scarf over."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm not . . . I can't . . . You can't expect to just . . . This isn't . . . I was just trying to . . . God, this just isn't going to . . . to . . ."

Rachel silently watched the meltdown in front of her, sure that any second now Quinn was going to burst into tears again, and she had no idea what she had just said to cause it.

"You just can't _do _subtle can you? You can't just _ask_ that kind of thing, Rachel! Not to me anyway. This is hard enough for me, don't you get that? Just trying to be your _friend_ is hard, without you actually _asking_ me if . . ."

At least she was getting full sentences now, and when she'd had time to digest them they really helped. The reason for Quinn's sudden verbal frenzy clicked into place and Rachel blushed red and put a hand over her mouth as she realized what she had insinuated.

"You couldn't at least just pull some kind of lame guy move _first_ instead of putting me on the spot like that. Like I don't know, do the fake stretch thing or something before. . . "

"Quinn, calm down, I wasn't making a pass at you," she swiftly interrupted, scared that the cheerleader's shock would soon turn to anger if left uncorrected. "Mike Chang called me after school."

". . . putting your arm around me and . . . Wait, _Mike_ called you?"

She nodded frantically. "About an hour before you did. And he asked me if I wanted to hang out tomorrow night."

Quinn leaned closer. "And what did you say?"

"I said yes, but then after we hung up I started wondering what he meant by 'hang out'. Did he mean a date or a friend thing?" Rachel picked at the carpet beside her knee, feeling silly that she'd brought it up at all. "I suppose I should have called him back to clarify but I felt . . ." she shrugged helplessly. "Can you tell me, is this something I'm just supposed to know, Quinn? Like a boy-deciphering code that's passed down from generation to generation that every girl just instinctively acquires by the time they reach tenth grade. . . every girl except me, that is."

She waited patiently and with an open mind for any words of female wisdom Quinn cared to bestow on her.

"You said _yes_?"

That was pretty redundant considering the rest of her long-winded explanation. "Yes."

"Why?"

Um. "Why wouldn't I? I don't have any other plans."

"Won't you have homework to do?"

"Obviously, but I don't envisage that taking up my entire evening."

"But you did tonight?"

Rachel didn't understand the turn this conversation had taken or the hostility Quinn was displaying. "I'm not sure I understand your point."

"It's a pretty simple one, Berry. You were too busy with homework to hang out with Finn and I tonight but you have all the free time in the world to _hang out _with Chang tomorrow."

"Mike was considerate enough to give me prior notice about wishing to spend time with me. Meaning I can plan the rest of my evenings activities around it. He didn't just call and expect me to drop everything for him."

Quinn scoffed, "Well sorry for being too spontaneous for you."

"You weren't being spontaneous," she argued, "you were being demanding and as I've made clear numerous times now, you don't get to demand things of me anymore."

"Oh, we'll see about that."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, not at all happy about the pleasurable tingle that travelled up her spine with Quinn's authoritative tone.

Quinn gave her a too-sweet smile. "It means you're not hanging out with Mike tomorrow. You don't even _like_ him and I'm not going to let you lead him on just because you can't have what you _really_ want."

She pulled the textbook onto her lap and started to read the page that was open – which was not the one they needed but Rachel was too busy spluttering with indignation to realize it was just to wind her up.

"You don't get to make that decision," she finally managed. "And I do like him so how can you say that that's not what I really want?"

Quinn turned a page. "Fine."

The swift change of direction made her splutter some more. "What? You were just . . ."

"You're right. It's not my place to tell you who you can spend time with. Hang out with him. Have fun. Oh, and to answer your question: Yes. He's been salivating over you for weeks now for some reason so hanging out means the two of you in his bedroom making out. Or more, you know, seeing as he really likes you."

She felt pale. "Really?"

Quinn flicked the page over again. "Of course. He's a teenage boy. An _experienced _teenage boy. What else is he going to expect."

Paler. "He is?"

"He's on the football team, what do you think?"

"I, um, I've never . . ."

She stopped because she couldn't ask Quinn for tips on how to make out with someone. Maybe if they'd been getting along like they had been earlier but not now when Quinn was being so cold.

"What's the problem? You've made out with guys before, right?" Quinn looked up at her, just long enough for Rachel to see her smirk. "Oh right, you haven't. You've only kissed Finn _one little time_."

"And you, apparently," she shot back, reacting to the smirk without thinking.

Quinn looked up again, eyes narrowed. "Yes, well we _definitely_ didn't make out that night."

No, she hadn't thought they had, what with 'making out' presumably requiring two willing partners. Her linked fingers wrestled nervously in her lap. Maybe she should cancel her plans with Mike. It wasn't that she had been lying about liking him, she just still wasn't sure if she liked him _like that_. Enough, anyway, to spend a few hours in his bedroom doing things she didn't have the first clue about.

Besides Quinn was right, she probably was just leading him on if it wasn't his name that first sprung to mind when she pictured rolling around on someone's bed in a romantic, passionate clinch.

And it really wasn't.

Her eyes strayed furtively back to Quinn but the cheerleader seemed fully absorbed in the textbook and didn't notice.

Somewhere far away the doorbell rang, lost in her awkward thoughts Rachel barely noticed it.

"That's probably the pizza," Quinn murmured without looking up.

"Oh. Right. Yes."

Weary of Operation: Bright New Outlook 2.0 already, and with her appetite completely gone, Rachel dragged herself to her feet anyway, fetched her purse from the desk and went to answer the door.

She was starting to think that when it came to the two of them, the question of whether they were really friends or foes was, perhaps, too straightforward to cover all of their options.


	31. Racing on the Thunder

Hey, managed to get this next chapter up in just under a year since the last one! Never actually meant for this to go on hiatus, so sorry for the ridiculously long gap between updates and thanks for your patience.

Oh, and **HAPPY NEW YEAR!**

**Chapter Thirty-One: Racing on the Thunder.**

As soon as she was alone Quinn shoved the book off of her lap and dropped her head into her hands.

What the hell was wrong with her? She hadn't come over here for any of this! She obviously shouldn't have come at all, because now look at her, at the _pair_ of them in fact_._

They'd been having an okay time, she was feeling relaxed for the first time in Rachel's company, without having to be buried face deep in her neck to achieve it. And then she'd gone and ruined it! First with making the massive mistake of thinking Rachel was coming on to her – and really, what had that been about? She couldn't have just said 'thanks, but no thanks' instead of embarrassing herself completely? She was sure she would have been cooler about it if she hadn't been totally blindsided by the fact that Rachel was being so open and blunt about something that frankly terrified the hell out of Quinn.

Not that she had been, as it turned out!

And then . . . _Mike_. What the hell?

Quinn didn't do jealousy except as a motivating factor; she didn't need to because if she wanted something she just made it hers, end of story. And the last person she ever thought would be able to put a dent in her three year run of total success was a skinny Asian boy who'd only escaped McKinley loserdom because he could catch a darn football three times out of four. Mike Chang was clearly the problem here. If she could just find a way to eliminate him from the equation then Rachel would realize that a futile, unrequited crush on _her_ was way better than an actual relationship with that _boy_ . . .

Quinn slammed her palms into the carpet either side of her, head dropping back against the edge of the mattress. She was losing her mind, competing against a guy who should be so far beneath her notice that she crushed him under her heel without even, well, noticing, for the attention of a _girl_ she didn't even want to want in the first place!

She was wrong, Mike wasn't the problem; _s__he_ was and this was a disaster! Trying to hold Rachel close and push her away at the same time because _she_ felt so confused. She needed Rachel to like her but couldn't give her a reason to and just kept giving her reasons to do the opposite. She was floating out of her depth and it was nice, better than nice, when she just went with it, but every time something made her remember she couldn't touch the bottom anymore she panicked and lashed out; driving even more of a wedge than ever between them.

She should just leave. Give Rachel the money for the pizza, tell her she wasn't hungry anymore and just go before she could make things any worse. It wasn't like there was anything to gain from staying. They could never be friends when she was feeling so conflicted and she was not prepared to risk another meltdown like she'd just had. It wasn't even that it was embarrassing – although it totally was – but why suffer through it when Rachel was clearly more interested in Mike Chang than her?

She found her purse and counted out enough money to cover the pizza, folded the bills and tucked them under the edge of Rachel's history homework where she would find them later.

Rachel might be hurt by her sudden change of attitude for a little while but it wouldn't be _that_ hard to stay away. It wasn't like they were really friends anyway. They didn't hang out in school; they were by design on opposing sides of the fissure running through the middle of Glee club and Quinn would be professional and civil in American Literature.

There was really no reason for them to spend time together other than that.

Her eyes strayed to the door to Rachel's closet, thinking of the freshly washed clothes that would be inside.

'_But I need her.'_

No!

She didn't need her like that. She didn't need anyone! And she wasn't going to prove Rachel right by hanging around just to . . . to _sniff_ her clothes!

Quinn began shovelling her homework into her bag before temptation could get the better of her – any more than it already had by leading her to this house, this bedroom, this . . . _cluster-fuck of emotions and mistakes. _Two of Rachel's pens were accidentally thrown in in her rush to get as far away from making any _more _mistakes as she could.

She could be home in twenty minutes, putting tonight's misadventure behind her forever. Chalking up her desire to come here as curiosity or ill-managed gratitude or even loneliness. People got lonely, it wasn't a crime, and Rachel's effervescent company could definitely be marketed as a cure for it. You just couldn't feel alone with that much personality in the same room.

A warm smile crept up on Quinn, even though she was partly sure she'd meant that last thought cruelly. Actually she wasn't sure of anything anymore, especially where Rachel was concerned. Like, what would Rachel chalk her unexpected visit up to? Or her hasty departure?

They weren't friends though, so maybe she'd think nothing of it. Or she'd think the worst and assume Quinn was being a total bitch again for no reason (like she'd ever needed a reason in the past) and Rachel would go back to acting like she was so superior for not sinking to her level.

It wasn't fair, but she wasn't going to sit her down and _explain _her reasons for leaving in the middle of a da . . . _what the hell?_ In the middle of a DAY! That's what she'd been thinking. She wasn't going to explain to Rachel why she was running out in the middle of a day, _the _day . . . that was already past eight in the evening, kind of missing the middle of the day by hours.

Her shoulders slumped in a moment of doubt and self-loathing, and then she finished packing her book-bag with renewed vigor.

Just as she was trying to get the damn zipper to do as it was told, a soft thud on the other side of the bedroom door made her look up. It had been too soft for a knock but Quinn panicked for a heartbeat anyway, terrified someone had come to call on Rachel and would find her somewhere she wasn't supposed to be (i.e. in Rachel's room).

A dozen excuses ran through her head, none of them good, so her face melted into relief when the door opened wide enough to reveal that only Rachel was on the other side. A large pizza box was in her hands, so large she probably couldn't reach around it and had used the corner to push the door wide enough to enter, explaining the thud.

Quinn only surmised all of this as she watched Rachel freeze in the doorway long enough for the door to drift back the way it had come until it bumped up short against box. Her relief diminished with every second Rachel just stood there, staring at her in disappointment. She hated that, feeling like a disappointment. Like she couldn't even go one da . . . _evening_ without letting her down.

What would Rachel chalk her hasty departure up to? Quinn could see the answer plain in her eyes: running away! From something she'd probably never guess right in a million years – Rachel was exceptionally clueless about that – but that's how she'd see it. Quinn had come over, had her fun at Rachel's expense and now she was running away from the scene of the crime.

Something like that anyway and it pissed her off that even _Rachel_ _Berry_ no longer cared enough to scratch the surface, choosing to take her words and actions at bitch-face value instead of always hoping for and digging for a greater meaning behind them.

Well, to hell with that. If Rachel wanted her to stay and fight, Quinn was more than battle ready.

She steeled herself, propping a hand on her hip even though she was half-kneeling on the carpet, and stared at Rachel. She may have been the one looking up, but her arched just-perfectly-so eyebrow let there be no mistake that she was still the one on top here as she waited for the other girl to break the awkward silence.

"Um, why are you stealing my history textbook? I'm pretty sure it doesn't smell like me."

Okay, she wasn't battle ready for _that_. The bizarre accusation surprised a laugh out of her and she said, "You caught me. I was desperate."

"Really?"

"No, Rachel. I just put it in there by mistake." She fished the big book back out and set it neatly on top of Rachel's homework pile. "I was . . . tidying."

Rachel knelt back down beside her, pressing the pizza box carefully to the floor with a little too much attention to detail. "So you _weren't_ leaving?"

A faint smirk worked its way over Quinn's lips, a normal reaction to being right, before she pulled it between her teeth in a beat of insecurity. Rachel's tone had been so hard to read she honestly didn't know if the other girl would have preferred that to be the case.

"Why would I be leaving? The pizza just arrived," she tested the water.

"I thought maybe I'd upset you by talking about Mike, it was insensitive of me. I know you're not keen on him, although you've never explained why."

Was she serious? No, Rachel had to be messing with her, calling her out. Surely. Rachel apparently had a giant blind spot where Quinn was concerned but _nobody_ could be _that_ oblivious to what was right in front of them.

What should feel like a blessing was starting to get frustrating. Still, she buried it deep and played the part she had to.

"You didn't upset me. And, Chang isn't significant enough for me to not be keen on . . . or to be keen on, or . . . anything." That sentence had been cooler before she'd given it oxygen to live and an icy edge. "He's just a boy." That didn't make it any better. "And I was just messing with you."

"Oh." Rachel's thumbs stroked the straight edge of the box. Quinn's fingernails dug half-moon dents into her palm. "What do you mean?"

"I . . ." Could she admit she'd been jealous? And then what? Declare her everlasting love? Right, not happening. "I. . . I was . . . _messing_ with you. Sorry, I didn't think you'd take it so seriously. Mike probably just wants to go to the arcade with you or something tomorrow. And as far as I know he's never even had a girlfriend so I _may_ have overplayed his experience a little."

Rachel nodded slowly as she flipped the pizza box open and fragrant steam filled the space between them. "Why?"

"I don't know. I guess he's shy or something."

That earned her a soft chuckle. "No, why were you messing with me?"

Quinn took a breath and let it out slowly while she came up with a reason. Lying seemed to be working for her so far so she went with it again.

"Because messing with you is my favorite pastime, Berry. I thought you would have realized that by now. I just took it too far this time."

"This time?"

Through gritted her teeth, she pointed out, "I'm trying to apologize here."

"And I accept, for this time. I don't know why you like messing with me so much though. It's been three years, am I really that much fun to torment?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Quinn thought about bringing up the 'no whys' rule again but in the long run it was probably easier to just answer the question.

"You don't back down. It keeps it interesting."

Rachel smiled, apparently it was enough of an answer for her. Ripping a wedge from the vegetarian side of the pizza she stood again to turn her television on. Sitting back down with the remote in hand she blew on her slice.

"What would you like to watch?"

"It's your TV, you choose."

"But you're my guest, so you get to choose."

Quinn smirked as she finally picked up a slice of her own. "I thought I was your intruder?"

Rachel grinned again. "You are, but I'll still let you pick the channel."

And just like that it was simple between them again. Almost like they were actually friends. She sat back against the side of the bed, holding a napkin under her pizza so it wouldn't drip sauce on her Cheerios shirt.

"Anything that doesn't include sharks is fine with me."

Rachel gave her a curious look as she moved on her knees to lean against the bed too. "That's an oddly specific request."

"Finn made me watch this shark attack show earlier; it was disturbing to watch all of the little Rachel-pups get eaten alive."

"Rachel-pups?"

Quinn hid her smile behind a bite of pizza and possibly enjoyed Rachel's curious impatience a little too much until she finished swallowing.

"Yeah, the baby seals kind of reminded me of you."

"You think I look like a _seal_?" Rachel was clearly offended. "I suppose that's original at least. Can I expect this to catch on at school?"

"I doubt it." She grinned, tongue sliding mischievously over her bottom lip. She knew she was playing with matches and if she struck the wrong one she'd go down in flames but God help her, she really did just _love _messing with Rachel. "I'm not exactly planning to broadcast that I think you're cute to anyone."

Rachel's mouth dropped open and pink crept over her cheeks as the words registered.

She still wasn't blushing as hard as Quinn, who for all her cocksure attitude couldn't believe she'd actually let that come out of her mouth. Proud, terrified, flustered, she settled back against the edge of the bed so that she didn't have to look directly at Rachel and pointed to the TV with her pizza.

"So, hurry up and pick something."

Rachel flicked through the music channels – hardly a surprise – before settling on current hits, but after thirty seconds of listening to Eminem tell the world he wanted to 'Crack a Bottle' they shared an amused frown and Rachel switched it to MTV Classic. Cyndi Lauper's _I Drove All Night _was halfway through and when Quinn smiled Rachel set the remote down.

They watched in silence for a few minutes, just the sound of their chewing to be heard, and all was fine. Until the first commercial break and then Quinn's earlier words seemed to be hanging heavily over her head, and she may have just been paranoid, but she was sure Rachel was fixating on them too judging by the amount of attention she was giving an advert for a drywall vacuum sander.

She searched for a lighter topic of conversation to move them on from this sticky spot. "So . . . you like Mike, huh?"

Maybe she could have chosen better.

Rachel just shrugged about it. "He's nice. He's actually amazing. He's . . . amazingly nice."

"Then what's the problem?"

Rachel turned to her sharply, "What makes you think there's a problem?"

The wishful kind? Also, just something about Rachel came across as hesitant whenever she spoke of him.

"So there isn't?"

Rachel studied a green pepper, her unnerving ability to maintain eye-contact through every confrontation deserting her for a minute. "I guess I'm just not used to guys being all that into me."

Even though she was disappointed, Quinn appreciated that that could be cause for the off-kilter vibe Rachel emitted whenever she brought up Mike Chang. Inexperience and uncertainty made this kind of thing hard, she could definitely relate.

"A-and maybe that's part of the appeal, you know?" Rachel added quietly, like she didn't want to admit it out loud.

"Oh," she murmured, because she could relate to that too, _and _it shed a whole new light on the Mike situation. "Rachel, you can't just settle for the first guy who likes you. I mean, if you really like him too then okay, but if there's someone you like more then maybe you should wait for them."

What was she _saying_? Luckily, Rachel was as oblivious as ever.

"But that's the point! No one else is interested, and I could do a lot worse than Mike Chang. He's good-looking, he's kind, he's an _excellent_ dancer. He has star potential!"

Quinn felt her stomach turn over, but maybe it was just because she was hungry. She took another bite of her pizza, chewing slowly before swallowing to buy time before she said something stupid.

It didn't work. "There _are_ other people who like you."

"Oh really?" Rachel's amused response was so immediate and explosive she had to raise a hand to stop pizza sauce and chewed up vegetables from spraying everywhere. After she'd swallowed, she added, "Pray tell?"

"Like . . ." Quinn, who hated to think of herself as a coward, chickened out. ". . . Finn."

Rachel squinted at her. "Your boyfriend, Finn?"

"Do we know any other Finn's?"

"Your _boyfriend, _Finn?"

"I never said I was happy about it and it's not like I'm worried about him straying." And he'd better not because she would _kill _him if he touched Rachel. "But if we weren't together, yeah he'd be a little interested."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Because having her crushing on Finn again was a safer option than having her hanging out with Mike, who was single and probably liked her even more than Finn did.

"I honestly don't know."

Rachel smothered her laugh with another bite of pizza. "Did you by any chance accidently swallow a truth serum before coming over?"

"Maybe." Her mind flashed through a hundred possibilities at once and knew she was about to say something stupid _again._ "Maybe you should ask me something you think I'd normally lie about, that way you could find out?"

Yeah, there it was. She held her breath and only just stopped herself from closing her eyes to hide as she waited for the inevitable. It could take many forms. _Do you like me? Do you want me? Who really kissed who? Do you want to make out? Will you be my . . .?_

"Why do you think Mike likes me?"

Her half-excited, nervous thoughts came crashing to a halt. Mike? Again? Why was she so _obsessed_ with him?

She felt no compulsion to be honest now but, with a sigh, "Why wouldn't he? You're smart, talented, reasonably attractive, he'd be an idiot to not like you."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I took a truth serum, remember?" Quinn allowed herself a wink. "Now stop talking through Blondie!"

Rachel smiled, turned back to the screen and ate her pizza and Quinn breathed a sigh of relief because much more of this and she really was going to spill all. She was so not ready for that.

She couldn't help but feel pleased that she'd made things okay between them again. Even if it was tentative and awkward and she was still feeling stupid-jealous. Now if she could just keep it going for more than two minutes.

"So does that actually taste like anything?"

Rachel looked down at her pizza. "Of course. It tastes great; and mostly animal-cruelty-free."

"You can taste animal-cruelty-free?"

"If you have the right kind of conscience you can."

Quinn accepted that with a shrug. "Why only mostly?"

"Ideally I'd be a true vegan, which would mean no cheese."

Quinn couldn't imagine a pizza without cheese, she couldn't imagine a _life _without cheese, or meat for that matter, so she asked, "What's cruel about cheese?"

Halfway (or not) through Rachel's lecture on the badness of the dairy industry she held her hand up. "I get it! So why aren't you vegan, if you feel so strongly about it?"

"There are many things I feel strongly about, Quinn, which I'm not allowed to do."

Her mind went to a place that had nothing to do with veganism, but she ignored it. "Why aren't you allowed?"

Rachel huffed, clearly annoyed, "My Dads say I can't give up dairy until I'm _fully grown_. Which clearly I am, however much I wish I wasn't. They feel this need to force-feed me calcium and while I've pointed out there are perfectly good supplements for that they aren't budging. I've managed to wrestle them down from twenty-one to eighteen but, and please don't repeat this, I'm not planning to wait that long."

Amused by the fierce look in Rachel's eyes she just had to ask, "So how long are you planning to wait?"

"I don't know. I haven't quite managed to narrow it down to an exact date yet, but I promise you now, Quinn, that as soon as that day comes I _will_ be living as a true vegan."

Quinn had to smirk, because this weird intensity was why the people at school thought Rachel was, well, to put it in plain English, a total freak. She'd thought so herself, once, maybe, but she had to admit Rachel's passion, even over something like this, was more interesting than the blah-blah-blah inanities that passed for conversation with her usual girlfriends. "You do know you made that sound really sinister? You're not going to turn into some kind of militant hippy on me, are you?"

"On you?" Rachel pounced on her slip up, but despite the mild panic attack happening behind her eyes Quinn didn't jump to explain it away. "No, being a hippy looks unhygienic and as much as I'd love to play society's conscience I don't have the time right now. I plan to wait and fully embrace the opportunities in political activism that college will offer me instead. Although I suspect I'll be more suited in the behind the scenes planning department than yelling at consumers on the front-line."

"Seriously? With _your_ voice you could convince, I don't know . . . _coyotes_ to give up burgers." She paused, not sure how her bizarre compliment would be received. The uneasy feeling in her stomach just grew as Rachel smiled demurely, her cheeks tinting pink in pleasure. "So, uh, I wouldn't worry about that."

They once again ate in silence, watching Bruce Springsteen perform _Dancing in the Dark _on the small screen_._

"Oh my God," Quinn chuckled. "My mom used to have such a crush on him."

It was a hasty, awkward change of topic, but that didn't mean it wasn't true. Sometimes, when her mom was drunk and it was late and her Dad was out of town, Quinn could hear his records playing distantly from the other side of the house.

"I think she still does actually. Is that gross?"

"I think it shows impeccable taste actually," Rachel said earnestly. "I hope I have stage presence like he does one day. To be able to command so many fans like that? Look at the way they are screaming for him. That is _true_ stardom."

"You might want to start working on your _guns_," Quinn prodded her upper arm, teasing, "if you want to pull off _that_ sleeveless look."

"What makes you think I haven't already?" Rachel pulled a strong arm pose ensuring Quinn's next prod encountered firm muscle beneath the loose sleeve of her simple black t-shirt. "There's nothing wrong with my arms."

Quinn's favored eyebrow rose in surprise. No, there wasn't. They certainly weren't weak and noodle-y like for some reason she had been expecting. Her fingers stroked over Rachel's toned bicep with appreciation, first safely over the short sleeve and then unintentionally catching beneath the cloth to travel over smooth, warm skin.

Rachel giggled, maybe it tickled . . .

Blushing at the intimacy the move implied, she pulled her hand back with a dry, "You're still no Springsteen."

"One day you won't be able to say that. Hey, can I ask you something?"

Quinn was instantly wary of the curious gleam in her eye.

"It's just something you said earlier. I wasn't really listening at the time but now we're talking about arms again . . . what did you mean by 'the fake stretch'?"

Darn, she'd thought she'd gotten away with that. She took a large bite of her pizza and took her time chewing it, hoping Rachel would get bored of waiting and become engrossed in the music videos again. Instead she waited patiently for her to swallow.

"I don't remember."

Rachel sighed but it had an air of amusement about it. "I take it that truth serum is wearing off. I'll just have to come to my own conclusions then. Now, what were we talking about? Oh, right, you were under the mistaken impression that I wanted to make out with you and that somehow led to you . . ."

She had to intervene because letting Rachel come to her own conclusions was not a good idea. Lying through her teeth was the only good idea.

"Fine, but remember I wanted to let it go so if we get into an argument about this then it's your fault." That was supposed to make Rachel want to forget it but she just nodded her acceptance. "I was just pointing out that you were terrible at seduction; like really, really bad at it."

"That hurts a little but not as much as it would have had I actually been trying to seduce you. So go on, why was I so bad?"

"You were just . . . I _thought _you were just blurting it out there, that you wanted to . . . you know, whatever, like you were twelve or something. I thought it came off a little desperate and so I said it was lamer than when guys do the fake yawn and stretch thing." She replayed her words in her head and, well, it was the best she could have done under the circumstances. "I was just suggesting you work on your subtlety."

"Thank you for the tip." She couldn't read Rachel's expression, couldn't tell if she was upset or even if she believed the hasty lie. "What fake yawn and stretch thing?"

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. Obviously you feel I need to work on my seduction skills and while _Finn_ seemed to respond well to my blunt approach . . ." She paused to let it sink in and Quinn's fingers clenched around the pizza slice. She had to hold a napkin under it quickly to catch the grease about to drip on her uniform. She didn't snap at her though; she'd hurt Rachel by lying to save herself, so she could take this one on the chin. ". . . if you feel this fake stretch thing is better than my unappealing attempts, perhaps I should learn it so that I can at least be slightly less lame in the future."

"You know what it is. Everyone does."

"I'm clearly not everyone. I have had a total of zero boys try and seduce me so far. But if explaining it is making you uncomfortable I can ask Mike tomorrow night. I'm sure he'll be happy to demonstrate it for me."

Not for the first time Quinn was unsure who was playing who here, but either way Rachel had said the magic words.

"Okay, I'll show you."

Setting her squashed slice down, she wiped her fingers on the napkin. There was a foot of space between them which she narrowed considerably – smirking when Rachel started to look suspicious.

Quinn stretched for real, raising both arms high above her head as she tried coaxing the nervous tension from her muscles and when she finally dropped her arms again her left landed over hunched shoulders.

Causally picking her pizza back up in her right hand, she leant back against the bed and pretended she couldn't feel how Rachel was practically vibrating with nerves (or excitement?) against her side.

"That's the fake stretch," she said, before taking a bite.

"I get it now," Rachel nodded in understanding. "Danny does it to Sandy in Grease."

"Uh huh."

"Do boys _really_ do it though?"

"Finn used to do it all the time until I told him to knock it off."

"I can see why. You're right, it is pretty lame."

Quinn wanted to snatch her arm away in embarrassment, but before she could Rachel settled back, trapping her limb between the back of her neck and the edge of the bed. Okay, things just got weird. She was sitting with her arm around Rachel Berry.

Her heart was hammering and she was still cringing, but Rachel just calmly started on another slice of pizza like this was the most natural position to find themselves in in the world. She just _had _to be faking it, but two could play at that game and Quinn suspected she had so much more practice.

"Yeah, well it's not my lame move, remember? I'm just demonstrating it."

"Of course. So what happens next?"

"Huh? What do you mean, _next_?"

"After Finn fake stretched, what was his next move?"

She wasn't demonstrating _that_! Wait, was Rachel actually asking her to? Did she _want_ Quinn to come on to her or did she just want some inside information to make her fantasies about Finn that much more realistic? She didn't know how to ask without souring the mood between them again, so she would just have to feel her way through the awkwardness.

"I don't know, after a few minutes of thinking he'd been so suave – and that I didn't totally know what he was doing – I guess he'd start doing this."

She curled her hand around so that she could run her fingertips along the neckline of Rachel's t-shirt, just barely grazing skin. She was being a lot less handsy than Finn but it was more or less the same move.

"I see." Rachel swallowed and licked her lips – Quinn would bet it had nothing to do with the pizza she was eating. "And then what?"

"And then when I looked at him to ask him what the hell he was doing . . . he'd try and kiss me." Ignoring how fast Rachel turned her head to look at her, she pulled her hand back, forcing it to dangle limply. She'd enjoyed that a _little_ too much. "And then I'd yell at him."

"Why?"

"Because it takes more than a lame move like that to make me want to kiss someone and Finn was never going to learn that without me pointing it out – loudly."

Rachel grinned and toyed with the pizza crust in her hands before looking back at her. "So what would _your_ move be? If _you_ wanted to kiss someone, how would you go about it? Obviously I'm only asking in the interest of any tips I can pick up to improve my own _moves _in future."

"Obviously," she drawled, barely stopping it from releasing as a frustrated groan.

Rachel was smiling like an innocent, eager-to-please student and not the beguiling seductress Quinn's peace of mind would love to paint her as. This was getting silly. She needed to stand up, step away and remove herself from this temptation, before it could shift from silly to down-right stupid.

Or she could sit there, gazing uncertainly into Rachel's eyes, for too many seconds too long to make a dignified and plausible retreat.

To escape now would let her nerves show, it would let slip she had anything to be nervous of in the first place, and it would give Rachel the wrong idea. And it was imperative she avoided that at all costs.

She gathered her nerves and lowered her voice to a confident, casual purr.

"I like to think I'm more subtle. I'd wait for the perfect moment, where it would feel natural yet somehow still accidental, like one minute you're just talking and then you look up . . ." she began with some deliberately flirty eye-contact. Her voice was softer still as she continued, ". . .and suddenly your eyes catch and you just can't look away."

"Like now?" Rachel whispered.

"If you say so," she murmured back, completely lost in big brown eyes.

"Oh, um, I didn't mean, um . . ." Rachel was blushing and stammering to cover her assumption.

Quinn shushed her gently. "And _then_ . . . I'd lean in, just a little, not all the way yet because I'd want you to feel it, that same anticipation that I'm feeling, that same rush . . ."

She was close enough for Rachel's quick, shallow breaths of _anticipation _tomingle with her own and it was perfect until Rachel, hanging on every word, tipped her head invitingly. Quinn forced herself to blink and break the spell of insanity she'd cast over them.

"And then I'd kiss you," she finished, hoping the quiver of fear and excitement in her voice was camouflaged by her quick grin and the even quicker way she moved out of Rachel's airspace to sit back and watch the television again.

"I can see how that move would be more effective." Rachel was breathless.

"I bet you can," she teased lightly, and watched already ruddy cheeks turn even darker from the corner of her eye.

Rachel was quick on the defense, maybe she was feeling extra vulnerable. "That doesn't mean I . . ."

She shushed her again, because that _had _been fun, but she wasn't just teasing Rachel and there was only so much she could take without breaking. If Rachel had been dominant enough to kiss her instead of just waiting for Quinn to follow through on the move she'd been describing, well . . . they'd probably be rolling around together on the pizza box by now. And the damage that would do to her uniform was only _half_ the reason why that would be catastrophic.

"I love this song," she said, in the absence of any articulate way to break the suddenly heavy silence.

Rachel joined her in watching Bonnie Tyler's video for '_Holding Out For A Hero'_, head nodding and socked foot tapping her carpet for a few lines before Quinn's eyes flicked to a crust being thrown into the pizza box. She tensed, waiting to be reprimanded for playing games or trying to control things again, but Rachel surprised her by rising gracefully to her feet, twisting in a way that allowed her to take Quinn's hand from her shoulder and twirl herself under it as she was pulled up too.

"What are you doing?"

"I like it too. And now I need to burn off the pizza. Dance with me?"

She tensed all over again at the '_with me_' but Rachel dropped her hand as soon as they were both up and gave her all to Bonnie Tyler. Bemused, Quinn watched her go, trying to distance herself from the absurdity of Berry dancing like she didn't have a care in the world (or any dance training!) in her bedroom right in front of her, by calmly eating the last two bites of her slice.

The second verse was in full swing when Rachel breathlessly asked, "Is there a reason you're scared to dance with me with me again? I thought we were past that."

Yes, there was. There always would be. And the last ten minutes had proved they definitely were _not _past it!

She knew she couldn't _say _that and it was enough to shake Quinn from her faux indifference. She gave in and danced along with her. Lesser of two evils? Or maybe because . . . why not? Nobody was here to see her or judge her for enjoying herself for a little while.

It was surreal though, dancing in Berry's bedroom like this. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd danced just for the hell of it. Dancing in Glee was fun but because it was usually about learning the same choreography over and over again – generally under Rachel's terse instruction – it lost some of its shine. This was different. Rachel was being ridiculously free and wild, not caring when she tripped over her own feet or when her over-zealous jump in the air made her crash-land over her desk chair and it gave Quinn license to give herself up to the music too.

They sang as they danced and she was surprised again by how well their voices just fit together and she knew Rachel saw it too because when Quinn couldn't stop laughing – because of the desk chair incident – Rachel's hands were up, one waving to stop her laughing the other making an up, up, up gesture with her palm to encourage her singing.

When the song was finally dying away Quinn was closer to wanting to kiss her than ever.

"That was . . . that was . . ." Rachel was doubled over, holding her sides. Quinn realized she had never heard her laugh before, not like this, like she was about to fall to her knees from the force of it. It was infectious, as proved by the way her cheeks were aching from grinning for so long. ". . .too much exercise right after pizza."

"Suck it up, Berry. Stars don't get to keel over just because they've eaten."

"Not keeling over, just . . ."

'_Baby Love'_ came on next and Quinn might have squealed, a tiny bit, quietly . . . or not. Sue her, she _loved _The Supremes.

Rachel's giggles were stronger than ever as she looked up. "Did you just . . .?"

"No, shut up. And come on."

When Rachel was slow to move Quinn grabbed her hands and forced her to at least sway from side to side as she danced about in front of her. It didn't take long for Rachel to join in, but as that included her fingers curling around Quinn's the option to let go suddenly didn't seem to be there anymore.

It was okay, it was just dancing. It wasn't like it even mattered anyway, this was how they'd learned dance steps in elementary school, when every girl had still thought boys were yucky.

She'd never really gotten over that.

Quinn continued to swing their hands between them as she sang along to the dated music video.

"_Baby love, oh, baby love . . ." _she sang and giggled at the same time. _". . . .I need you, oh, I need you!"_

Quinn knew she still had a huge smile on her face so she kept her eyes on the ceiling above. She was putting every ounce into the lyrics and only slightly faltered when she felt Rachel squeeze her hands and draw her closer.

"_Cause baby love, my baby love_

_Been missing ya, miss kissing ya_

_Instead of breaking up_

_Let's do some kissing and making up . . ."_

Rachel was letting her sing alone this time, but Quinn was very aware of the keen focus on her. She should stop . . . it wasn't like she was singing _to Rachel_, but still, it must seem like it and anyway, oh yeah she was so full of crap!

Smiling ruefully, she danced in and pulled one of her hands free, settling it on Rachel's shoulder instead.

"_All of my whole life through_

_I never loved no one but you_

_Why you do me like you?_

_I get this need . . ._

She skipped a beat when Rachel's free hand tentatively closed around her waist, fingers lightly pulling at her Cheerio's shirt, but she knew this song like the back of her hand and it didn't slow her down for long.

"_Ooh, ooh, need to hold you_

_Once again, my love_

_Feel your warm embrace my love_

_Don't throw our love away_

_Please don't do me this way_

_Not happy like I used to be_

_Loneliness has got the best of me . . ."_

The pleasure she was taking from Rachel's starry-eyed look as she sang to her (and let's face it, there was no one else here!) was inspiring and disturbing all at the same time. She felt high and amazing and terrified as she sang the last few lines.

"_Don't throw our love away, don't throw our love away."_

Maybe it had something to do with how close they were dancing.

She deliberately killed the weird mood by throwing her arm out and twirling Rachel at the end, catching her completely by surprise if the way she fell against her, giggling uncontrollably again afterwards was anything to go by.

"I can't breathe!" she wheezed, still leaning against her.

Taking advantage of a commercial break, Quinn stooped down for her last slice of pizza, but her hand was back on Rachel's shoulder as soon as she straightened up and it hardly did anything to displace the way they were leaning against each other.

"You sang that really well," Rachel panted, little giggles still escaping. "You should sing it for Glee sometime."

Quinn smiled, happily surprised, because Rachel generally hated anyone but her and Finn having the spotlight. "Really?"

"Yes, definitely. You went sharp a few times of course. You should really stop reaching for the high notes because you don't have the training for them and it weakens your performance over all, but if you stuck to a lower register throughout you could really pull it off."

Quinn stiffened, her previous high deflating. "Thanks so much. I'm honored to get constructive criticism from the great Rachel Berry."

"Criticism?" Rachel looked up at her, confused. "That was a compliment."

"Seriously?"

"It was supposed to be."

"Then maybe it's something you need to work on because you were a little _sharp_."

"Oh." Rachel stepped away. Quinn let her. "I was just trying to help."

She sighed, because that was the stupid thing about it: "I know." She'd just never taken criticism well.

Dark, angry eyes jerked back to meet her own.

"Then if you _know_, why did you have to be so mean? Why be like this?" Rachel stepped back into her personal space as she ranted, not even flinching when Quinn straightened up to meet her verbal attack. "Did the wind change? Did Witching Hour begin early? Or is it because we were getting along, I'm finally chipping through the Great Wall of Quinn, and your only escape is to push me away again before I can break through to the _real_ you we both know is in there somewhere?"

"Great Wall of Quinn?"

"Don't laugh at me!"

"I wasn't!" Laughing couldn't have been further from her mind.

"Then tell me what is going on!"

"I don't know!"

She took a step back. Why were they shouting at each other? And what exactly was Rachel talking about? You know, _exactly_, because she was already confused by this entire evening and she didn't want it to get worse.

"That's not an answer! I never know what is going on with you. One minute you _hate_ me then we're _dancing _together and then there's _singing_ and now here we are, yelling at each other _again_ and, frankly, it's getting exhausting, Quinn!"

"What is?"

"You!" Rachel yelled.

That was it. The insinuation that this was all her fault? Too much. Too far. She snapped. It was almost like a physical sensation and she just couldn't hold back her words.

"Did you _really_ think this thing was ever going to be easy, Berry? Are you really so naïve that you thought it would all just to click into place because _you _want it to? Don't you think I want that too? I would _love _for this thing to be easy but I knew it wouldn't be and I'm still here so _stop _yelling at me like this thing is all my fault."

"What _thing_, Quinn?"

"_Our _thing! Us. Me and you? There is no script or lame move or carefully choreographed routine for you and I, Rachel, so _deal_ with it!"

The air felt too heavy as she drew some into her quivering chest. Time stopped. The Earth stopped too, with a sudden jolt that sent her legs wobbly. She wanted to put her arms out to steady them, but the only thing close enough to grab was Rachel. She wanted to run but with her Bambi-on-ice legs she'd probably careen straight into the floor at Rachel's feet. She wanted to pray but with only profanities racing through her mind it didn't feel very respectful.

"A-are you saying what I think you're saying?" Rachel finally checked in a timid whisper.

Quinn could only breathe back at her until the rigid fear of everything she'd just let go of faded enough to ease the tension in her back and neck muscles.

And then she nodded.


	32. Sorry, I Want a SuperMAN to Sweep Me

**Thanks for all of the lovely reviews :) Told you I wouldn't make you wait another year, just four months this time- yay!**

**Chapter thirty-two: **

**Sorry, I Want a SuperMan to Sweep Me Off My Feet.**

This couldn't be real life.

That was the only thing bouncing back and forth in Rachel's suddenly cavernous mind; that and the whistling wind and the rustle of the obligatory tumbleweeds. Real life wasn't like this. A more plausible explanation was that Quinn had punched her a few minutes ago and now she was experiencing an episode of delusion caused by a severe concussion.

That didn't explain why Quinn had been _singing_ _a love song_ to her only minutes prior to the violent head assault. (A breakaway thought had her lifting a hand to her nose, to check its wellbeing just in case). Quinn abhorred the idea of singing love songs even in her general vicinity, let alone _to her_. So why would she . . .?

That _had_ been a nasty collision with her desk chair and in the real world what were the odds of her recovering with as much grace as she had? Far more likely was the possibility that she'd been unable to save herself and had crashed clumsily head first into her computer, knocking herself unconscious and freeing her _sub-conscious_ to delve into this fantasy world where Quinn Fabray would willingly spend time hanging out in her bedroom . . .

Except Quinn had already _been_ in her bedroom when she'd danced into the chair . . .

She hadn't been getting much sleep recently, thanks to Quinn invading her every waking thought and refusing to go away even long after she'd closed her eyes for the night. It made perfect sense that she'd fallen asleep at her desk, mid-way through her math homework, and had dreamed of an evening spent in the company of one of Quinn's nicer personalities. After all, when else was Quinn ever amiable for such an extended length of time except in her dreams?

So, no, this wasn't real life, but at least this time she'd been spared the nudity and the audience of cackling Cheerios. In fact, if she could just wake up now this could go down in the 'feel-good' section of her dream diary . . .

"Ow!" she rubbed furiously at her arm. "I could have done that myself, you kn . . .? Um, Quinn, did you just pinch me awake?"

"I wish."

"Oh. So I was already awake," Rachel said, to herself, slowly working this unexpected information into what she already knew of the evening's events. It was all just too far beyond the realm of the believable. "Are you sure?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "You are such a loser."

She barely heard the insult, she was too preoccupied with the other things she'd heard. A wild smile took over her as the last of her doubt drained away. She opened her mouth to express her excitement and triumph and . . .

"Don't!"

Rachel closed her mouth again. Quinn was using _that_ tone. The one she would always associate with an intense desire to get out of the cheerleader's way as quickly and painlessly as possible. But where was she supposed to run to now when Quinn just happened to be standing in the middle of her usual bolt-hole?

Things were different now though, weren't they? Wasn't that kind of the point of the life-changing epiphany she was currently in the middle of? There was no need to be scared of Quinn's moods anymore.

She opened her mouth again . . .

"I said, _don't!_"

"Don't what?" Rachel pouted, not thrilled that her jubilation was being dampened by Quinn's inexplicable black cloud. Shouldn't this be a joyous occasion? Her thoughts were filled with trumpets, confetti canons and dancing elephants (if responsibly cared for, naturally), and Quinn was severely raining on her parade.

"Don't smile like that. Don't get all excited. Don't say I told you so or tell me how you knew all along or ask me anything you know I don't want to be asked. Don't jump up and down. Don't give in to that crazy need I can see in your eyes to do a lame victory dance. Don't even _think _about dedicating a MySpace video to this hellish moment, but mostly, above _all else_, do not start s_inging_!"

"Despite what you think, I can control myself. I don't burst into song whenever and wherever the urge takes me." Quinn gave a disbelieving look and Rachel crossed her arms and sank sullenly down on the edge of her bed. "Fine, well, whatever urges I may have had five minutes ago have now been completely killed off, so you don't have to worry about me celebrating this _hellish _moment with a fitting musical number."

"Good. Keep it that way." Quinn perched on the bed beside her, but unlike earlier in the evening there was a good bit of deliberate space between them. "And, Rachel, I think we'll both be more comfortable if you could avoid talking about your, um . . . _urges_, around me."

Rachel didn't know whether to blush or scoff. Quinn had made the word sound so sexual even though she hadn't meant it that way at all. "I'm perfectly comfortable."

"Yeah, well I only really care about how I feel, I was just trying to be polite."

See it wasn't all bad, even Quinn caring enough to be polite was a step in the direction she wanted them to take.

"So I listened to your list of don'ts. Is there anything I _am_ allowed to do?"

"No." Even before Rachel could protest, Quinn realized this was too harsh and hesitated before amending, "You can do whatever you like, I'm not your gir. . ." she cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I mean, I'm not the boss of you."

"Really?" Rachel feigned surprise. "I was starting to think you thought you were."

Quinn smirked, "It's not my fault you sometimes need a firm hand to keep you in line."

The cold tone was back but Rachel just could not help the way it curled her lips in a provocative smile.

"Oh God." The words tumbled out on a shaky breath as Quinn made a show of shifting a few inches further down the bed. "Stop that!"

Rachel laughed, but Quinn didn't look like she was seeing the funny side, and so in a small voice, she asked, "Hellish? Really?"

"Do you have a better word for describing this situation?"

Actually, she did. "How about 'wonderful'? Or 'awesome', 'inspiring', 'monumental'? Or if you must get Biblical why not go with 'Heavenly'?"

After cringing at every word Quinn barked a laugh, incredulously turning to her. "Heavenly? _Heavenly_? Are you kidding me? Does any of this feel _Heavenly _to you, Rachel?"

"Well maybe not right now," she admitted, voice small again, but then with strength she continued. "But that's only because you're being like _this_. Why _can't _this be a good thing? If this is really something . . ."

"It's not," Quinn said quickly.

Confused and irritated, Rachel's eyes narrowed, "So now it's not something?"

"No. I don't know." Quinn turned her face away to mutter, "It might be something . . . I just don't think it's anything we should call good."

"Why not?"

"Stop asking stupid questions."

"Stop giving me stupid answers and I will!"

Quinn turned sharply, ready to give her a warning, but Rachel met the cold fire in her eyes with a fierce heat, flame for flame.

"You won't get it."

"I'm not as naive as you think I am," she countered.

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not! You're just scared to have an honest conversation about anything that means something," Rachel ranted, and then paused. "Wait!" She replayed her own sentence back in her head. "That's it! You came here to have an honest conversation about something that means something, only then you chickened out."

"No I didn't. I had the conversation with you that I came to have. So stop trying to twist things. I was just trying to show you that I-I didn't . . . you know . . . _hate_ you or something, by meeting you halfway. I should have known that would never be enough for someone like you."

"You're lying." At those words Quinn was up again, pacing two steps one way three steps the other, before kneeling to tidy the last of her things into her book bag. Rachel stood too and despite Quinn's clear discomfort, Rachel didn't relent. "You came here tonight because you _like_ me."

It sounded just as insane as Quinn would have her believe when she said it out loud, but it made her smile all the same.

"And you wanted to make things okay between us again because we have this thing. This difficult, mysterious, beautiful thing. It's been driving me crazy trying to figure out what's been going on – you?" The other girl was silent, still on one knee in the middle of the room but unmoving, head down and listening. Rachel took it as a yes. "So maybe it is bad, but maybe it's amazing instead. How can we really know if we don't even talk about it long enough to figure it out?"

More beats of silence passed before Quinn rose gracefully to her full-height, snatching the TV remote from the carpet as she did so. Fluidly and without needing to look she muted the set over her shoulder and crossed her arms.

"Okay, let's talk."

She should be cautious in her excitement, but that wasn't really the Rachel Berry way. She stepped closer, all the better to gush with enthusiasm. "Well, how about we begin by talk . . ."

"No. Me first. You sit."

The curt words stopped her in her tracks, but with a mild eye-roll she waved her arm graciously to show Quinn she had the floor. Which she did, she was still standing in all of her head cheerleader glory in the middle of it. It made Rachel feel a bit giddy when she took it all in, eyes sweeping appreciatively over her adversary.

A small push to the center of her chest had Rachel's butt meeting the bed again but before she could get indignant, Quinn was finally sharing.

"I don't _want_ any of this, Berry. I don't want it to be happening. I don't want to talk about it or think about it or-or _feel _it. This isn't that thrilling moment when you realize the cute boy you're really into likes you back, okay? At least not for me."

"Maybe that's because neither of us are boys. Perhaps if you stopped thinking in such straight lines, no pun intended . . ."

Quinn laughed anyway, but not in a 'You're so funny' way. "Sweetie, that's just _one _of the reasons this is never going to happen. Look, no offence, okay? But I just _can't _be into you. Not like that," she laughed again, clearly thinking _she _was hilarious, before adding softly, "Not like anything, actually."

Catching herself and shooting Rachel a dazzling, insincere smile, she continued, "I have plans, big, important life plans, and you just can't be a part of them. It's not that I don't like you or anything, but nobody ever got to the top by aiming for the bottom . . . _shit_!" Hearing what had just come out of her mouth, Quinn swore under her breath and then rushed straight on as if it hadn't happened. "And besides, you of all people know how much I have on my plate already. I mean, I'm _pregnant_! How much teen drama does one girl need, Rachel?" she forced out another laugh. "I finally have the baby problem dealt with thanks to Mrs. Schue, and once that's over I just want to go back to being a _normal _sixteen year old again. That's not too much to ask, is it?"

She'd listened politely, but it finally seemed to be her turn. "What about what I want?"

"If you . . . if this really _is _a thing, between us, and you . . ."

"Have feelings for you?" Rachel filled in the words Quinn seemed incapable of.

Quinn nodded reluctantly, "You'll want what's best for me, right?"

"How do you know exploring this _isn't_ what's ultimately best for you?"

There was just a flash of uncertainty in Quinn's eyes, but she disguised it well by avoiding a direct answer. "You can't decide that for me and I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to."

That didn't feel fair; rational, but not fair. "So you want me to just sit around and watch you ignore the feelings we have for each other?"

Quinn smiled, self-satisfied. "That would be perfect, Rachel, thank you . . ."

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

"I said no. I'm afraid avoidance doesn't work for me. You can't just come to my house, tell me you have the same feelings for me that I have for you and then expect me to just, what Quinn, put a pin in it because it's not convenient for you right now?"

"That's not exactly what I said, is it Sweetie?" Quinn smiled and Rachel relaxed a little, relieved, until, "Forget the pin, I want you to drop a _house _on it, because it's never going to be _convenient_, Berry. You and I? I don't care if we're the freaking reincarnation of Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_, it's _not _happening."

"You're scared."

"Give the girl a gold star! Terrified, actually," Quinn admitted a little too easily.

Well that was an easy fix! Did Quinn really think that she wasn't scared too?

"There's nothing to fear but fear itself!" she quoted one of her favorite motivational slogans. "And we can conquer it together! I'll be by your side every step of the way . . ."

"Oh boy, that'll make life easier."

Rachel ignored her sarcasm. "I think you should at least give us a chance. I could be really good for you, Quinn."

"You would mean _suicide_ to me, Berry."

"You can't be serious?" Rachel demanded when a fierce, cold fear spiked her veins with ice and made her angry. "You'd rather hurt yourself than admit to being attracted to me? That's offensive and disrespectful and selfish and . . . and what about your friends? What about your parents? What about God? What about your _baby_? _What about Glee Club_?"

She could have gone on but Quinn pointing the television's remote at her head and wailing, "Oh my God, why is the mute button not working?" effectively silenced her and with an irritable sigh she crossed her arms and settled for glaring.

"Don't get so hysterical, Berry. I meant _social_ suicide. There, you made me say it. Happy now?" Quinn threw her hands in the air. "Giving into this _attraction _would totally ruin me. My friends would turn their backs on me. My parents have done everything they can to make me who I am today, and I can_not _repay them like this. My _God_? Not a big fan of homosexual's if you believe what he wrote in black and white. My baby will probably be born premature just to get away from me faster and _Glee Club?_ Are you serious? They'll be the worst of the lot! Can you even imagine how they'd react to _us_? Sorry, Rachel, but I've worked way too hard to ever risk there being an 'us'."

Now would be the time to tell her to get out. Even better to put a foot up her butt and kick her out. Maybe it was that this was still Quinn Fabray or maybe it was the fun they'd had before the confession that had ruined everything or maybe it was just plain and simple Berry stubbornness, but what she did instead was to turn cunning.

"This isn't a one way street, you know?" Rachel leaned back on her arms as she attempted to give as good as she'd been given. "What do you think people would say if they found out I was into you? I'm already a laughing stock at school, Quinn; the only shred of dignity I retain is the one where I _don't_ bow down to you and your peons. If people knew . . . I'd lose even that. And as for my dads', they'd probably switch me to _intensive_ therapy if they knew I was harboring feelings for the girl who's been bullying me incessantly for the last three years."

It was what she'd been angling for, but she was still surprised when it worked. Quinn's stance relaxed as she laughed in amazement.

"_You're _ashamed of _me_?"

"Not ashamed, I would proudly be your friend, but your inflection in that single sentence is why I'd be stripped of the last ounce of self-respect I have left if anyone found out there might be more."

Quinn made an annoyed growly sound under her breath. "I can't be your friend. Santana is already out for me because I protected you this afternoon; and after I put the sophomore Cheerios through the wringer for what she and Kassie did yesterday it wouldn't take much to sway the squad away from me. There's no way I can risk that right now."

"But would you want to be, if that wasn't an issue?" Rachel pushed.

"Do I want to be your friend?"

"Yes."

"Not really."

She'd set herself up for that, hadn't she? Trying not to show she was hurt, she was about to bluster out something about Quinn's friendship being not that important anyway.

"I have friends already," Quinn's arms fell to her sides, like she was too weary from the conversation to hold them up anymore. "That's not what I need from you."

"Need?"

"Want!" Quinn corrected quickly. "Shit, I mean . . . whatever. I don't see you as a friend, Rachel."

"Ever?"

"You really suck at reading between the lines, don't you? Actually, you just really _suck_. Why are we doing this to ourselves? I already told you this is going to come to nothing. I should just leave."

"Then leave, and we'll just finish this conversation the next time we can't keep away from each other."

She was being crafty again.

It worked again.

"Okay, so what do you see us getting out of this?"

Oh. She didn't know. She had a bunch of Quinn-related fantasies to call on, but they weren't appropriate to mention now and beyond them . . . what did she expect? If Quinn didn't want to be friends with her, or her – dare she even dream – _girlfriend_, then what did that leave them?

"We could, I don't know, just keep doing what we've been doing, maybe?"

"That's the thing," Quinn griped. "I don'teven _know _what we've been doing lately."

That didn't really ring true. If even Rachel could see they'd been flirting then surely someone who'd had boyfriends and admirers their whole beautiful life could detect it.

"We've been getting to know each other," Rachel shrugged innocently; and this performance totally had 'Tony Award Winner' written all over it. "That's all. Is there any reason we can't keep doing that?"

"Only a million," Quinn said, but in a tone that gave Rachel hope.

"My daddy always says you should get to know your enemies as well as you know your friends, because an enemy in need becomes a friend pretty quickly and you never want to let your friends down."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," Quinn said softly. "I think someone famous said that. Are we enemies?" she sounded distressed by the idea, which frankly was ludicrous for someone who had been picking on her for as long as Quinn had, but unfortunately endeared Rachel to her more than ever.

"We were certainly cast that way, but maybe we're not now."

"I guess . . . I guess it wouldn't kill either of us to get to know each other better. We're in a lot of the same classes and we have Glee club together." Quinn slowly ran a hand through her ponytail, pulling at it, gaze not quite focused on Rachel as she spoke. "It could be beneficial in all sorts of ways to learn a little more about each other."

It was the breakthrough she had wanted but hadn't dared hold her breath for.

It left her not knowing what to say next. Being ever the eager little over-achiever and taking into account her level of enthusiasm for this subject (so much greater than for History!) she wasn't lost for words for long.

"Can we start now?"

"No. I'm exhausted." Quinn finally twisted on her heels and perched back on the edge of the bed.

"Please? Just quickly. It's still early," she wheedled, and then, "And we still have lots of pizza to eat."

Quinn's nose wrinkled, "I don't think I can eat anything after . . . that."

"After what?"

"All of the . . ." Quinn waved a hand vaguely and laughed at herself. "For want of a better word, excitement of the last thirty minutes." Had it really been that long? Had Quinn Fabray really liked her for thirty whole minutes already? "I feel a bit light-headed from it all actually."

So did she!

Then the side of her that couldn't help but put Quinn's welfare above everything else kicked in. "Really? Then all the more reason for you not to skip meals. It's not healthy. Unless you'd just like to lie down on my bed until the feeling passes?"

Quinn looked from Rachel to the bed, the bed to Rachel, and Rachel to the bed, bed, Rachel, and cocked that expressive eyebrow. ". . . Okay, give me a slice of pizza."

Rachel sighed, rolling her eyes good-naturedly as she left the bed to fetch her some of the meaty side from the box on the floor. "That wasn't a come-on, I was purely thinking of your health."

"Sure. Whatever." By her smirk Quinn clearly didn't believe her. "Thanks," she added as she accepted a clean paper napkin with the slice.

Rachel sat next to her once more. "So what's your favorite color?"

"Why?"

"I'm getting to know you," she explained with a bright, encouraging smile.

"Are we in kindergarten?" Quinn chuckled as she bit into her pizza.

After waiting patiently for, oh, about fifteen seconds, she repeated, "So what's your favorite color?"

"Seriously?" Quinn caught red tomato sauce as it dribbled past her lips. "Oh fine! Uh, yellow maybe, or red? That's all I'm answering."

"What's your favorite musical?"

"Stop it!"

"What's your favorite song?"

Quinn deliberately took a large bite of her pizza to prove she wasn't answering.

"Do you sing in the shower?"

Quinn put a hand over her mouth to hide her semi-chewed mouthful as she garbled out, "_Don't _think of me in the shower!"

"Sorry. Sometimes it's hard not to; now that I've witnessed you in the act a few times, seen you having a shower in the flesh, so to speak . . ."

Oh Barbra, she'd nearly killed Quinn Fabray! Thankfully the offending chunk of pizza was eventually cleared from her windpipe but she hadn't had a hope of catching the escaping sauce this time. It dribbled and dripped from her lips and down her chin to land on material that despite being worn all day was still ice white. The sauce was really more orangy, she decided, when seen in contrast with the blood red lettering just inches from it. She'd read somewhere that the most mundane things came into sharp relief moments before the end of your life. She had a feeling only one of them was making it out of this room alive tonight and it wasn't Quinn's day to die.

"You idiot! Look what you made me do!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" she chanted, wishing she hadn't frozen to the spot; it was making it so hard to run away.

Quinn swiped at it instinctively, smearing it and making it worse. "Just great! Coach Sylvester is going to _kill_ me!"

"Maybe if we soak it quickly . . .?"

"It needs to be dry-cleaned, moron!"

"Sorry."

Quinn was still staring at the stain in dismay, then she waved a hand in dismissal. "It's done now, forget it."

"I'm really sorry." They'd been starting to get on again and she couldn't believe she'd messed it up just for the sake of getting a silly rise out of her. "I'll pay for the dry cleaning. Maybe we can get it as good as new before Coach Sylvester even has to see it."

"I said forget it. It's not _totally_ your fault I turn into a klutz when you're around."

That didn't sound like death was waiting around the next corner. She risked a smile and Quinn just rolled her eyes.

"Can I at least get you something to change into?" she asked, leaving the bed to open her closet.

Quinn watched her thoughtfully before unexpectedly grinning, "Trying to get me into your clothes again?"

Her fingers _had_ been brushing over the hoodie Quinn had borrowed before.

"Not at all. I know how torturous it was for you last time."

"It was actually. You have no idea how much crap I took that day."

"I can assure you that my good deed caused me a lot more crap than you."

"Yeah, I probably should have apologized for that." She still didn't though. "Anyway, it's fine. I don't want to borrow anything. This'll dry in a minute. And besides, I'm not changing in front of you."

Rachel would have taken offense to that, if Quinn wasn't still grinning. Instead she volleyed back, "That's a little redundant, don't you think? I've already seen everything."

"Doesn't mean you're going to get to see it again. Especially not now."

"Why especially not now?"

"Another stupid question, Gnome? I thought you were supposed to be smart?"

"Gnome?" Rachel questioned, smiling in surprise at how warmly the epithet had slipped from Quinn's tongue. Far from sounding derogatory, it felt almost affectionate. Her smile grew when Quinn had to turn her face away to hide an instant blush.

Tingling with all the possibilities the night seemed to hold, Rachel slowly made her way back to the bed. "My go-to shower song is Defying Gravity. The acoustics in my bathroom are amazing and allow me to really do it justice. I can show you if you want."

"I'll take your word for it." Quinn threw the crust of her pizza into the box and looked at the sauce still coating her fingers. Rachel automatically stooped down to get her another napkin. "Thank you." And then she sighed out, "D'you know, 'You can't hurry love?'"

"Huh-what? That's not what I'm trying to do!" Rachel spluttered. "Light-hearted banter is simply an excellent ice-breaker in awkward social situations. I definitely wasn't trying to rush you into anything more than we've already agreed to."

She could be single-minded and overly-enthusiastic in pursuit of the things she wanted but she was still trying to decide if a romantic entanglement with the ice-cold, luke-warm, too hot to handle Queen Bee (B was for bitch, everyone said so) was something she even genuinely wanted outside of the realm of fantasy. She'd thought so, until she'd been confronted with it, now she didn't know whether to be exhilarated or terrified and Quinn's attitude towards the subject wasn't making it any easier to choose.

The one thing she did know: she certainly wasn't ready to start bandying words like _LOVE _around!

_Now_ why was Quinn smirking at her?

"That's my shower song. _'You Can't Hurry Love' _by The Supremes.

"Oh, um yes I know it." Rachel blushed at her mistake, and smiled because Quinn was opening up. Never one to waste an opportunity: "So speaking of showers . . ."

"I'd really prefer it if we didn't."

"But we've already come so far," she joked and then ploughed on. "So was that the first time you, um . . .?"

"What?" Quinn shook her head cluelessly. "The first time I showered, the first time I shared my hair products, the first time I . . ." she stopped abruptly, biting her lip and that blush was back. "Why don't you just finish your sentence?"

"The first time you realized you had feelings for me?"

"Jeez, no!"

"So it was before that?" she asked, shocked.

"No! No way! It was later, much much later."

"Later that day? Later that week?" she pushed.

"I don't know, just later! I thought we were supposed to be getting to know _each other _here, so why do I feel like a guest of the Spanish Inquisition?"

"Well, more like an intruder really . . ."

"Stop it," Quinn insisted, trying to fight her grin. "And stop being so one-sided. What's _your _favorite color?"

"Pink," Rachel said easily.

"Oh." The hot air went out of her and she sat back a little. "I think I knew that."

"You can ask me something else if you like," she offered graciously. "Anything, really."

"What color panties are you wearing?"

If she'd been eating pizza she would definitely have just breathed her last. As it was she made a perfectly good job of choking just on the air in her lungs. Her over-excited breathing was further hampered by Quinn lunging at her and slapping a hand over her mouth.

"Don't answer that! It was a joke, _do not_ answer it! I will beat you up for real if you answer that!"

After ten seconds of Quinn hyperventilating and Rachel suffocating, she raised a finger to point at the way her airways were being compromised.

"Sorry." Quinn slowly withdrew her hand as she sat back, finger now pointing at Rachel in warning. "I didn't mean to almost jump on you."

"That's okay," she promised, trying to re-regulate her breathing. "I've had worse experiences of you jumping on me." And to prove her point, she added, "Incidentally, my panties are blue, with tiny yellow hearts . . . ahh!"

She was goading her, but she'd never really expected Quinn to attack, and even if she'd foreseen it there was no way she was agile enough or fast enough to avoid it. She squealed as she was tackled to the bed, her back thumping against her squishy comforter as her feet flailed in empty air over the edge of the bed.

"I warned you!" Quinn growled, following her down as she chased her wildly waving wrists.

"Hey, isn't yellow your favorite color? Maybe you should take a look." It probably wasn't wise to be laughing uncontrollably when Quinn looked so fierce - all manic smile and a wild glint in her sharp hazel eyes. "Oh hey, the wolf's come out to play," she giggled helplessly.

"Oh yeah," Quinn agreed, struggling to pin her down. "Just try rubbing my tummy now."

"If only." Despite trying to wrestle them away Rachel suddenly found her wrists pinned by her ears. "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh, indeed." Quinn said through bared teeth, but if she'd been an actual wolf, Rachel was sure that despite the show of dominance (or maybe because of it) her tail would be wagging. "What are you going to do now, Berry?"

Rachel smiled, "Well, as you're the one doing the straddling, making me currently at your mercy, I think the better question is: What are _you _going to do now?"

Quinn's face raced through a myriad of expressions before she finally came to the conclusion that restraining a girl on her bed didn't look that good when all things were considered. Of course Rachel could only guess that was what was going through Quinn's mind, the only evidence she had was the deepening shades of her blushing cheeks.

"Oh God, that was so not okay. You are such an ass, Berry. What were you _thinking_?" Quinn crawled off of her and turned to sit on the edge of the bed. Her daintily socked feet hit the carpet with twin thuds of exasperation. "I'm pregnant, I can't just start . . . _wrestling_ with you!"

She couldn't help it; that set her off giggling again. "Why? Didn't you like _wrestling_ with me?"

"No. Look, just shut up. That's not even the point anyway. I like eating sushi, but that doesn't mean I'm going to do it while I'm pregnant."

"If you'd thoroughly read my fact-sheets, you'd know that most Sushi is perfectly safe to eat while pregnant."

"It is?" Quinn asked dubiously.

"It is, but if you're in any doubt," Rachel grinned. "You could always stick with the vegetarian option."

"Oh shut up," Quinn insisted again, the back of her hand lightly cuffing Rachel's knee as she tried not to smile.

"Will not," Rachel returned the gesture, reaching up to gently push at Quinn's shoulder, hoping to incite some more 'wrestling'.

She incited something, but not what she was hoping for.

Quinn went still, body tensing all over. "Whoa, don't!"

Concerned, Rachel sat up. "Sorry, did I hurt you?"

"No you didn't _hurt _me!" Quinn was speaking through a clenched jaw.

Rachel grew instantly defensive. "I touched your shoulder with three fingertips, is that not allowed now?"

"Shhh."

"I will not be told to shush in my own bedroom."

Quinn stood up. "Baby and pizza are wrestling now."

"What?" One look at Quinn's waxy, pale face cleared things up. "Oh! Feel free to use my bathroom. You know where it is."

"Not gonna be sick, just a need a minute to . . ." Apparently she changed her mind because suddenly, with a hand over her mouth, Quinn ran.

.


	33. Rising with the heat

A lengthier wait than I'd intended, but still not a year thankfully :) Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter and I'm sorry that I didn't get the chance to reply to everyone individually.

I know some people are finding the pace of this story frustrating and I apologize. Not for the way I've written the story, pace is an area I need to improve in but I write the long, drawn-out stories that I also love to read so I doubt my style is ever going to change much, but I make the apology for the length of time it's taken me to edit and post a fic that was completed in its basest form over two years ago. The length of time it's taken Quinn and Rachel to get even this far is understandably frustrating to some readers, but in their world not even a month of mostly short but increasingly less casual encounters has passed between them.

On the upside, there's only about half a dozen chapters of the torture left to go :)

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter thirty-three: Rising With The Heat.<strong>

So this was embarrassing. Not that Rachel wasn't used to her throwing up but she'd really been hoping that tonight wouldn't be about that. It wasn't a surprise though, seeing as she'd been feeling nauseous ever since she'd senselessly tackled Rachel down onto the bed.

She'd really overfilled her quota for 'embarrassing' today, huh.

One thing she wasn't surprised about was Rachel following her in – although she did respectfully knock first (and then didn't wait for an answer).

"I'm uggay," she gurgled, hoping Rachel would leave before she witnessed anything gross.

"You're a gay? Well, again I appreciate your honesty but this isn't something we have to discuss right now."

If she could have glared at her she would have done; she settled for swiping an arm back and hitting Rachel's knees. The other girl laughed and sank down behind her.

"You're okay, I understand. And if you'd rather be left alone just say the word. But if you'd rather not, I'm not squeamish."

At the feel of a small hand rubbing her lower back in just the right way Quinn lost all heart to tell her to get lost. She still wanted to, because she really didn't want Rachel watching her regurgitate pizza, but she wasn't strong enough. Between the tumultuous night they'd shared and Rachel's soothing hand on her back and even more soothing voice in her ear, she was beyond vulnerable and that made her beyond the point of pushing Rachel away.

"I'm not going to be sick," she muttered, feeling the dizzying wave pass, probably thanks to Rachel's proximity. "Just the pizza and the dancing and, um, everything . . . I just need a minute."

Her mouth was watering like crazy and she spat into the toilet bowl. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Do you want me to get you a t-shirt or something?"

She had to spit again. "Sorry." And then looked down at herself. "Why, did I dribble again?"

"No, I thought you might want to, uh . . . you know?" Rachel trailed off with an embarrassed chuckle.

"Oh." She had to spit again. "Sorry. No, it'll pass on its own eventually."

"Stop apologizing."

"Sorry." Spit. "Sorry. It's just, I can't say I've ever been a fan of you seeing me like this but now, after . . . well, it's worse." Spit. "Sorry."

The rubbing on her back went away as she felt Rachel stand. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get you a glass of water and a t-shirt."

"I said I didn't want a t-shirt." She leaned further over the bowl as the baby growled its disapproval. "That's not why I'm here."

Rachel filled a glass at the sink and kneeled back down behind her, offering it forward. "If it helps, Quinn, I don't mind."

"Yes you do." She spat again before taking the glass and sipping from it.

"No, I don't. It's not like I think you spent the entire evening with me just so you could . . . Although I can't help noticing you aren't actually being sick right now."

Quinn rolled her watering eyes. "If it'll convince you I didn't come over here to steal your fabric softener I'll stick my fingers down my throat and still not touch one of your damn t-shirts."

The rubbing came back. "That won't be necessary. I'm sorry."

Quinn retched a little as she tried to reply. "Sogay."

"I'm not ready to label myself yet, Quinn."

And again, "Ragel!"

Rachel chuckled and Quinn felt soft fingertips brushing a strand of loosened hair behind her ear.

It was soon clear nothing was going to actually come up, which was a relief – and not just because Rachel wouldn't have to witness it. After a few more sips of water Quinn let her body slump backwards away from the toilet, and half against Rachel.

"I think I'm okay now."

"You're still very pale."

"Still feel gross, but the danger period seems to have passed."

Rachel's hand made another two slow circles on her lower back. "Are you ready to go back into the other room?"

Actually she was quite happy where she was but she couldn't stay leaning against Rachel forever. "Yeah."

Rachel took the nearly empty glass from her and stood up to refill it at the sink. "Come on then."

Quinn gingerly got to her feet, feeling another wave hit her as soon as she upright. She paused for a moment, wondering if she should sink straight back down but Rachel's concerned eyes made her fight against it.

Back in the bedroom, Rachel gently coaxed her to sit on the bed and handed her the glass again.

"Do you want some crackers or something? They're supposed to help with morning sickness."

Quinn urgently held up her free hand. "No food."

"Okay, um . . ."

Rachel looked around her room, clearly at a loss as what to suggest next. Quinn saw her eyes dart to her closet and put a stop to that right away.

"No. I didn't come here with an agenda, remember? I'll be fine in a minute."

A minute passed. She didn't feel fine. Not that she felt like she was going to lose her dinner at any second, but she definitely didn't feel fine. The nausea that had been plaguing her on and off all day was completely _on_ now. She should probably go home so that she could take comfort in hugging her own toilet. Not that it was a _toilet_ she wanted to be hugging.

She voiced her thoughts aloud – well some of them – because she was clearly making Rachel anxious. "I should probably go."

"Do you think you can drive okay?"

She thought about it. "Maybe not. I can sit in my car though."

"Don't be silly, Quinn. You're perfectly welcome to stay here for as long as you need."

"I'm ruining your night."

"On the contrary. Your current debilitation aside, I haven't had a night this good in . . . ever."

She found that hard to believe. Yes, she was talking to Rachel Berry which meant she had to alter her perception on what a 'good night' entailed, but surely even for someone traditionally labelled a loser the definition couldn't stretch to watching someone fight with the need to vomit.

She really didn't think she could drive just yet though, so she was left feeling more on edge by the way she was putting Rachel on edge and if she _dared _to glance at her closet one more time Quinn was going to lose it.

"Oh, I have something!"

"I said I'm not sniffing anything!"

"No, not that." Rachel rolled over on her bed so that she could reach into her bedside cabinet unbothered by the way she'd just been shouted at. "Something to distract you might work just as well and you seemed very interested this afternoon in certain entries in my diary."

Quinn turned to her, her eyes giving away her excitement. "About the mystery thing you wanted me to do again?"

Rachel smiled, "Yes. You were honest with me about something big earlier, twice actually, and so I think I'm ready for you to know."

Quinn eyed the book held out to her with interest but shook her head. "I don't want to read your diary. Just tell me."

"I'll be less embarrassed if you just read it. Look, I'll open it to the right page and I trust you not to read anything but that entry."

Cautiously Quinn took the book from her. She scanned the bottom half of the right page – speed-reading what she'd already seen – and then flipped the page eagerly and . . . _seriously_? She read the passage again for hidden euphemisms but there really didn't seem to be any. She started to laugh, and the hilarity induced by Rachel's deepest, darkest desire increased ten-fold when, from the corner of her eye, she saw the girl in question cringing. _Busted_. There was only one course of action: mock her mercilessly, but for once (or _once again_, it had been hard to tell recently) she didn't feel an iota of cruelty lacing the edge of her teasing tone.

"You wanted another _thank you hug_? Are you kidding me? That's all you wanted?"

"It was a big deal for me," Rachel sheepishly tried to defend herself, but she was crimson with knowing she had every reason to be embarrassed.

The worst thing was, or maybe the funniest thing, Quinn was right there with her, cheeks burning with the memory. "I almost _kissed_ you this afternoon, Rachel!"

"Believe me, no one was more surprised than I was!"

She _could _believe that now. No wonder it had seemed as though Rachel was playing so hard to get; the girl must have been utterly terrified at how strong Quinn was coming on when her own demands were so innocent.

"If I'd known . . ." Quinn trailed off. She sort of felt like she should apologize, but it was still funny, she was still chuckling in fact. She wasn't quite ready to be done with the teasing yet. Nails tapping against the page, she coyly asked, "Have you written in it yet today? Can I read it? I bet it's good."

"It's the stuff dreams are made of, and no."

"Wet dreams no doubt," Quinn smirked but dutifully, if reluctantly, closed the book.

"Like you haven't had any about me." Suddenly feeling like the proverbial deer staring down the headlights of an oncoming car, Quinn gaped at having the tables turned on her. Giving Rachel her turn to laugh. "Anyway so now you know."

Quinn shook her head, still getting over how wrong she had been earlier. "I do."

As Quinn handed the diary back something slipped from between the pages and her fingers instinctively reached out to catch it for Rachel as it fluttered to the bed.

"What's this?"

"A photograph." No kidding. "Of my niece," she clarified when Quinn gave her a look.

"Your niece? But she's . . ." she asked sceptically. She'd already checked out the little girl in the photo and she was definitely without doubt, ". . . black."

"One of my fathers happens to be African American thank you very much," Rachel reminded her, annoyed.

"Oh, right," Quinn ducked her eyes back to the photo, berating herself for forgetting a fact about Rachel that anyone who spent half an hour in her company would soon come to know. "I think I knew that."

"However, she's not my biological niece. My dads' closest friends adopted her from Uganda last year. Isn't she a cutie?"

Quinn smiled down at the photo, "She's beautiful. What made them adopt?"

"Science has yet to come up with a way for two women to conceive a child together."

"Oh." Quinn handed back the photo. "I see."

"Apparently they talked about sperm donors but they couldn't agree on who should carry . . ."

"I said, I see!"

She didn't mean to sound, or feel, so defensive, but a nerve had been touched. The conversation had veered towards a path she wasn't comfortable with. Adoption she was interested in for obvious reasons, but she hadn't meant to open a door that invited Rachel to talk about, well, gay stuff (also for obvious reasons.)

Rachel looked hurt by her tone, and then angry, and then like she understood . . . but as it turned out, she didn't.

"Quinn," she began patiently, "if Mrs. Schuester wasn't an option, how would you feel about your baby having same-sex parents?"

"Why would it matter, as long as it was loved?"

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yes," she said tersely, because it pissed her off that Rachel was second-guessing her.

"Quinn?"

"What do you want me to say, Berry? That gay parents are an abomination? That it shouldn't be allowed? That the idea of two perverts raising a baby kind of disgusts me? I'm not going to say that because despite the fact that you're nodding knowingly in your head right now that is _not _what I think. But it is everything I have been brought up to think so don't sit there and judge me because I blink a few more times than you think is okay when you tell me about your lesbian friends having a baby, okay!"

Rachel breathed shallowly as the silence following Quinn's impassioned outburst settled thickly in the air between them.

"I'm sorry," she tried, but it was too late, Rachel was upset and moving away from her again.

She stared hard at her knees, feeling the nausea swirl in her stomach again and the threat of tears well behind her eyes. She hadn't meant to snap; she just felt so horrible and she always hated being put on the spot. The combination had gotten the better of her and now she'd ruined things between them again.

With a discreet, self-pitying sniff, she prepared to get up from the bed and silently take her leave, only to be startled by a new photo being thrust under her nose. In a fluid manoeuvre that belied her surprise, she drew her head back and plucked the photo from its invasive place right before her eyes.

"And this is?" she asked automatically as she looked upon the two women in their mid-to-late thirties and the baby girl with adorably frizzy black hair and wide toothless grin.

Rachel was suddenly sitting close to her again, even closer than before (Quinn tried not to notice) as she used her pointer finger to identify each person captured by the lens.

"That's Nadine and Kathy. I don't have any actual Aunties but they've always filled that role. And that . . ." She caught Rachel's grin from the corner of her eye. ". . . Is Luisha. Her birth name but they're calling her Lulu for short. I have explained that while Lulu is the name of a famous singer, and so would put her in good company, Luisha is much more original and would help her to stand out from the crowd when she finally embarks on a career in show business!"

Quinn gave her a soft, disbelieving grin as she gave the photo a better look. "They look happy. Do you think my baby will be that happy?"

Rachel looked startled by the intimate question; which was fair enough because Quinn was startled that she'd even asked it.

"I'm sure of it," she said in such a way that Quinn couldn't help but want to trust her judgement. Then, naturally, Rachel ruined it, because that was all they could both seem to do tonight. "Admittedly my only experience of Mrs. Schuester isn't great, I'm not entirely sure she's sane enough to raise a guinea pig, but I'm expect Mr. Schue will be a wonderful father . . . unless, of course, your baby has any natural singing talent because then it can only expect a life of being pushed to the side to let those less talented _have a chance_!"

Quinn handed the photo back with a chuckle and a sigh, "I don't have a problem with gay parents, Rachel, I promise. I just have a problem with gay people in general . . ." She froze as she realized just how that sounded, "That came out wrong, totally wrong!"

This time when Rachel looked understanding, she had the actual understanding to back it up.

"I get it. Gay people freak you out, because, maybe, they make you question yourself?" She thankfully didn't wait for an actual answer. "I've been feeling the same recently. Not freaked out by gay people, obviously, that would be silly considering the homosexuals in my life are the only people who have ever really treated me decently, but I have been doing a lot of questioning since I realized I was attracted to you."

Her eyes were feeling a little glazed over by nausea again but she turned to Rachel anyway. How could she be so . . . _honest_? And, okay gay dads and lesbian almost-aunties aside, how could she be so comfortable with _this_? With _them_? Rachel might have made it clear earlier that she was uncomfortable with _other_ people knowing how she felt, but she obviously didn't mind sharing it all with her. Whereas Quinn felt like a sword was piercing deep through her armour with every little confession she made.

"You still don't look very well."

"I'll be okay in a minute." She took another small mouthful of water and slowly swallowed it down

"Did the distraction not help? Can I do something else to take your mind off of it?"

"No, Rachel, nothing! There's nothing you can do, I already told you that. _God_, just let it go or _I'm _going to go."

That threat _should _have worked, it should have been solid, but . . .

"Okay, that's it, Quinn! Just sniff me! Stop trying to be a hero. You have a baby to think of. A baby that is clearly more attached to me than you are and I think you owe it to him or her to . . . to get off of your high horse and just _sniff me already_!"

Quinn's eyes widened, "What?"

Rachel suddenly propelled herself forward onto her knees, "Sniff me!"

"No!" Quinn nearly fell over sideways trying to keep some distance between herself and the crazy person.

"Can you tell me honestly that it won't help?"

Quinn made the mistake of hesitating.

Rachel flung her arms wide. "Then _sniff_ me!"

"You're freaking me out, Rachel!" Understatement of the decade.

"I apologize, but your nausea is ruining my otherwise perfect night, and before you get defensive _not _because you are in fact feeling nauseous but because we both know what will help and why you won't accept it and that makes me feel like a bad friend. _Friend, _Quinn, not anything else, but you are one of the only two real friends I have, whether you choose to accept that or not, and I don't want to be a bad one just because of everything else that is going on."

"Okay," she said quickly, unnerved by Rachel's outpouring.

"Okay?"

"Yes, but I'm still not sniffing you, Rachel. I'm not, tonight of all nights, going to abuse your . . ."

"Quinn! So help me, I will smother you with the t-shirt I am wearing if you don't just do as you're told!"

Downside?

Uh, maybe throwing up all over her the instant she was jostled!

From the determined look in Rachel's eyes Quinn knew she had no choice but to agree or make a run for it. But there was one way she could make it a little more balanced, a little more . . . Rachel-friendly.

"Okay, you win, but I have a condition."

"And that would be?"

Quinn managed a smile. "You have to let me give you a thank you hug for it."

Rachel chuckled, "I accept your terms, but, be warned, as soon as you're feeling better I'll be expecting it."

"Why wait?" Heart racing, Quinn moved to sit comfortably on her knees and waved her open hands towards her. "Two birds with one stone, right?"

Rachel looked nervous now it was actually happening, but gamely wrapped her arms loosely around Quinn's shoulders. "Is this okay?"

"Mmm." Quinn's nose had already dropped to Rachel's t-shirt, just an inch shy from the collar. It really had to be a miracle how only a few deep breaths made the horrible sick feeling fade "You?"

"Whatever you need, Quinn."

"No, I mean is this okay for you? Is the hug okay? Did I do it differently last time or something? If you want me to move my hands someplace else just say."

There was a beat where she cringed at her words, cheeks burning, and Rachel was chuckling near her ear.

"No, this is perfect. Just relax."

She felt a hand rub soothingly between her shoulder-blades, but she still felt as stiff as a board.

"I'm trying."

She didn't know why she was feeling so tense and nervy. True, this was still weird, but it wasn't _new_. It was just Rachel, she'd been sniffing her for weeks! It should have been as second nature to her as a front-handspring step out, round-off back-spring step out, round-off back handspring, full twisting layout was.

Of course it might have had _something _to do with her stupid confession earlier. She really hated herself for that. Then again, it had led her here, back to the restorative lemon grove that was Rachel's t-shirt, so maybe telling the truth wasn't all bad. She breathed in deeply and sighed it back out slowly, waiting for it to fully sooth her agitated insides.

Rachel giggled, squirming against her. "Sorry, that tickled."

"Oh, sorry. Did you, uh, do you need me to stop?"

"No! Just, um, breathe differently maybe?"

Breathe differently? Okay then. How exactly? She was pretty much in this awkward position _to _breathe, it was what Rachel had wanted her to do, and now she was doing it wrong? Better question: could she actually do anything right where Rachel was concerned?

Giving up on trying to please the born diva Quinn decided to please herself instead. The smell of Rachel's t-shirt was nice and adequate for her medicinal needs, but Quinn had other needs too (not that she generally liked to admit them even to herself) and they'd been asking for some consideration since lunch.

How was this for breathing differently? Abandoning the t-shirt, she pressed her nose to Rachel's neck and inhaled deeply

"Is this better?" she murmured against the warm, soft skin.

She'd already decided that for her personally, it really wasn't. It was another error, another lapse, another temptation she'd given in to. From Rachel there was no verbal response, just a tightening of the arms around her shoulders and, Quinn was almost totally sure, a little full-bodied quiver of approval.

She didn't know how long they sat like that as she breathed Rachel in – long enough for her to ever forget that she'd felt sick, long enough for her to have a new and pressing issue she was trying to ignore – when Rachel moved, pressing the side of her head to Quinn's.

A nose nudged her ear and she panicked. "No, wait, hang on."

"What's wrong?" Rachel asked, startled into leaning back.

Finn had had his mouth all over _that_ ear earlier and if Rachel decided to . . . well, she couldn't even finish the thought but it seemed important to swap sides. "I was getting a crick in my neck."

"Oh, I see. Ouch, I guess."

"Uh huh." Rachel was too far away. "You can, um, come get the rest of your hug now, if you wanted."

'_Come get the rest of your hug? Lame, lame, lame, and could I be _any more _obvious? Should I drool on her neck or take off my top just in case I'm really not getting the message across?' _

She was berating herself out of the situation, down the stairs and into her car when Rachel cut off her scolding monologue with a sweet smile and a 'yes, please' that managed to make her sound even more desperate than Quinn.

Just enough, at least, to keep Quinn on the bed and allow Rachel to slide back into her arms.

"Would you like me to give you a massage," Rachel murmured into her ear and if Quinn hadn't already been on her knees it would have brought her to them. "For your neck, if it's sore."

"I think that might be a step too far." The comment was vague but Rachel didn't ask for an explanation.

It both thrilled Quinn and scared her that Rachel didn't have to because she was on the same page, the same line even. A dangerous line. A thin line. Thin ice . . . and not that any of that wasn't true, but was she just reciting clichés in her head in an attempt to ignore the nose trying to nudge delicately into her hair, tantalizingly close to her ear (the safe ear). When she heard Rachel's subtle, hesitant inhale she felt it all the way down to her _toes_.

Her hair was already loosened from the dancing and then the, ahem, play-fighting; in fact it probably looked a mess, so it really wasn't out of place to reach up and pull it free from the elastic tie she was under oath to keep it in for seventy-five percent of the day.

Rachel made a soft _Oh _sound as the soft blonde waves fell into her face (_Good one, Fabray, why not just smother the girl of your . . . the _girl_ to death with your hair?)_

"Sorry," she said, trying not to physically wince at her too-loud, too-astute thoughts. "I thought you might . . ." For crying out loud! What was wrong with her? "It was starting to annoy me. Too high."

'_Just like I must be.'_

"Okay." Rachel accepted that way too easily, considering the amount of distress it had put Quinn through. She almost wanted to point out that it was a lie, an excuse, to coax a more fitting reaction from the other girl but before she could she was rewarded with a deep, contented sigh of: "I'm probably crossing a line saying this, and I'm sorry if I am, but your hair smells so good."

The tension she was feeling ebbed away on a chuckle. "I'm sniffing your neckand _you're _worried about crossing a line?"

"I'm not suffering from morning sickness right now."

"Neither am I, right now."

"So you're feeling better?"

Shit! She really wasn't ready for this to end. "A little, maybe, I'm not sure."

Rachel's arms tightened around her shoulders again and her nose burrowed even deeper into Quinn's hair as she murmured, "Okay, just let me know when you do."

Suddenly Quinn was pretty sure Rachel wasn't as naïve as she sometimes came across. She certainly seemed to have her number. She wanted to speak, to say words that would negate her current health status and convince Rachel that she was still feeling very, very ill. She wanted to leave no doubt. Her mouth even opened, but no words came out.

Thankfully, because what a stupid plan. She was smarter than that. Rachel had handed her a free pass. She'd just dodged a bullet she'd fired at herself! Was she really going to risk screwing her night up with a hasty lie just to save her a moment's embarrassment? A modicum of pride? A lie that Rachel might not even believe anyway?

"Okay." Instead, she pulled Rachel tighter to her, trusting it to be taken as the extra thank you it was intended as and then she kissed Rachel's neck.

Because, you know . . . _fuck_!

It was okay, it was okay, everything was okay. It was a silly thing to do but harmless; it hadn't even been a real kiss, more like . . . blotting away excess lip-gloss, only instead of using a piece of tissue she'd used a neck, Rachel's neck, it so wasn't a big deal. Rachel probably hadn't even realized what she'd done.

"Um, Quinn?"

Crap.

"What? I didn't do anything!"

Seriously, what was the matter with her? Was she really the same girl who'd convinced her virgin boyfriend that he'd gotten her pregnant via hot-tub? Where were her masterful skills of deception now?

"Oh, okay." Was Rachel smiling against her hair? "I thought for a moment you may have accidentally, or not, kissed my, um, neck?"

Oh hell, she might as well just go with it now. "No, sorry, wasn't me. That would have been wildly inappropriate behavior given my stance on our current state of affairs."

"That's exactly what I was going to point out," Rachel agreed, head nodding against Quinn's. "Extremely inappropriate and could perhaps be considered guilty of leading a smitten young ingénue on even, given the state of our current _affair_?"

Quinn smirked, "Smitten?"

"Like a kitten. Of course, as you're always keen to point out, I'm very inexperienced so it's probably just because I don't know any better. Are you not going to comment on the rest of what I said?"

She couldn't be leading her on because that would suggest some kind of pre-conceived intention for this evening when she really didn't know how she'd managed to get from making out with Finn on his bed to kissing Rachel's neck on _her _bed. There had been a lot of little moments in between but everything but the here and now was already half-forgotten.

"We're not having an _affair_, Berry," she murmured into Rachel's neck. "We're not married, middle-aged losers who need to screw the pool boy for a reason to get out of bed in the afternoon."

"So what are we doing?" Rachel asked.

Why was she whispering? It made the atmosphere feel horribly intimate. If only she hadn't muted the television. This would all be so much easier with mood music. If she wasn't so aware of how loud and nervous her own breathing sounded or how Rachel's breath seemed to skip every time Quinn's lips accidently brushed her neck she wouldn't feel so tense.

Rachel's neck, that wasn't salty like Finn's but sweet and soft and delicate and so, so _moreish!_

This wasn't supposed to be happening. This wasn't how things with Rachel were supposed to progress. There wasn't supposed to _be_ any _progression_ with Rachel at all. She was just about comfortable with the status quo – the liking, the being liked – but adding any new dimensions to this complication just wasn't conceivable.

Like a baby via hot-tub, but she'd managed that just fine._ So _maybe she could just bluff her way through this too.

"We're obviously not doing anything; I thought I'd already made that clear," she whispered back, letting Rachel feel the shape of the words against her skin before blotting a little more non-existent gloss.

Where they were pressed close enough, she felt Rachel tremble against her and it echoed along Quinn's spine and into the tingling pit of her stomach. She heard a murmur but the word was lost in her hair.

"What?" she whispered, and Rachel shivered again and so did she when she felt lips against her ear.

"I said, _Oh_."

"Oh." Her smile pressed to Rachel's neck.

She knew she shouldn't be pushing this, encouraging such conduct between them but when Rachel's lips lingered near her ear she knew what she wanted and the anticipation was driving her crazy. "Um, you can, uh, do that . . . thing, you, uh, did earlier, I mean if you want to you could."

"What thing?"

"That, uh, like in the bathroom, at school." And to think she'd accused Rachel of sounding desperate earlier.

"You want me to kiss your ear?" Rachel's whisper sounded more surprised than seductive.

"No! I mean, only if it was something _you_ wanted to do. I just want to make this arrangement as mutually beneficial as possible."

Rachel chuckled in her ear and Quinn felt it all over, she smothered her appreciative noise (okay, fine, it was practically a moan) with Rachel's neck.

"You weren't actually supposed to enjoy that, y you know. I was trying to gross you out so you'd back off."

"Oh yeah?" Quinn chuckled now. "How are you going to gross me out next? Put your tongue in my mouth?"

It had been a joke, clearly, and she would have so kept her mouth shut if she'd known it would make Rachel pull away to look at her incredulously.

"I suddenly find myself in an awkward position."

Quinn rolled her eyes before casting them to the side. "No kidding."

Arms dropping away from Rachel she was about to say she was feeling all better now before extricating herself from the situation as quickly as possible, because this really _was_ awkward – she'd been _kissing _her neck! And then she asked her to, sort of, kiss her ear again . . . and Rachel was clearly not comfortable with it. Yes, so very, _very _awkward.

"Yes, because I don't know if I'm supposed to take that at face value, and assume that it would gross you out, or if it was your not-so-subtle, subtle way of telling me I'm allowed to kiss you again."

"Oh!" Cheered immensely, Quinn smiled, and then panicked at the thought of allowing Rachel to kiss her, properly, like on the lips. "Um, neither, sorry, it was just a joke."

"I see."

"Sorry."

"It's not something you have to apologize for, Quinn. I've just been hoping I'd get to do it again one day, so that I might actually remember the experience, but I don't want to push you to do something you don't want to do." When she'd pulled back, Rachel's hands had slid to her shoulders, but now she slipped forward again back into the embrace. "Especially as you've already given me license to do this."

At the feel of soft lips closing daintily around her earlobe Quinn closed her eyes and the gentle sucking that followed made her grab fistfuls of the back of Rachel's t-shirt and hold on tight, unconsciously squeezing Rachel harder against her.

"Oh_ God!_" she breathed against Rachel's skin. "I never said I didn't want to."

It wasn't something Rachel was supposed to hear but they were so _close_.

After her lobe was released Rachel moved a fraction higher. Quinn's hips pressed in of their own accord when the tip of a tongue flicked into her ear and the warm flow of words after sent a strong current of pleasure searing through her nervous system.

"Then why aren't you letting me kiss you?"

"Rachel," she sighed.

"If you're saying my name like that in an effort to deter me, I feel it's only fair to point out it is in fact having the opposite effect."

She tried to hide her sudden nervous laughter in Rachel's neck but the actual result was just an unadulterated sweet, smooth mouthful of it. She'd been doing such a good job at keeping her rebellious lips firmly closed until now too.

Rachel tensed as, "That's not going to work either!" was squeaked into her ear.

She sucked lightly, feeling Rachel's hot breaths in her ear speeding up and really this wasn't good because now they were just feeding off of each other.

She enjoyed the feel of a hand tangling in her hair and stroking the back of her head, for a few seconds before drawing her lips closed until they were pursed against Rachel's skin. After a few last pecks she allowed herself just enough space to whisper.

"You really want to kiss me?"

Rachel's voice was shaky. "Yes."

"We shouldn't."

"I know."

"We shouldn't be doing any of this."

"I know."

"It'll just make everything harder."

"I know, but I don't care."

Neither did she; not when all she could think about now, like literally the only thing, was how good kissing Rachel had been before and how she'd been fighting for weeks against how much she wanted to do it again and how that same 'jumping off the edge' feeling was coursing through her only so much stronger this time because her body was already on fire.

She wanted to do this but still she hesitated. She tried swallowing her nerves but it didn't help. If she kissed her now there was no going back. Rachel wasn't going to conveniently forget. The fact that they'd kissed, willingly and without agenda, would be forever in their personal history book and it might not be as bad as Nazis but it was still really scary.

Rachel was just waiting patiently for her. _Quietly _eager for the first time since Quinn had met her and she knew it was because the other girl was just as nervous as she was, well not _just_ as nervous because all she had to do was wait for Quinn to make her move. There was no trepidation on her part because she was just _waiting_. If it didn't happen it wasn't her fault, and likewise if it _did _it wasn't her fault.

And just like that the answer to her stage fright was obvious.

"No, you have to kiss me this time," she whispered.

Ha, there it was! Rachel's eyes widened and she visibly gulped. "Um, okay."

Rachel leaned in so slowly Quinn nearly shattered with the anticipation of it all.

"Wait, this time?"

Quinn didn't understand. Rachel's lips were _right there_, less than an inch away, but they'd stopped. She'd granted permission and they'd _still _stopped. Why? What was wrong? Why weren't they kissing already? Did Rachel have any idea how hard it was for her to let them get _this _far? How easily she could bolt instead if her brain was allowed to catch up with her wayward body?

She kept most of that inside, only letting out a breathless, impatient, "What?"

"You said, _this time_. Why would you say that?"

Damn it, busted. Time to bluff, bluff, bluff.

"I don't know." Yes, she was going to have to do better than that. She went with a partial truth. "I thought it sounded, um, sexy? . . . or something." And now she was blushing, which made her feel self-conscious. "I don't know, Berry, I was being cocky I guess. I wasn't really analyzing what I was saying. Who does that just before they're about to kiss someone? Trust you to _overthink _yourself out of a kiss _again_. I thought you would have learned that lesson after Puck's party, but I guess not . . ."

"But I _did_ kiss you after Puck's party."

"Sure you did," Quinn rolled her eyes derisively. "Was that before you shouted at me for touching you when I had to catch you from _face-planting the floor!_ Or after you pulled out the world's smallest violin to play at your pity party because you didn't want to think about things you couldn't do to my _face_ anymore?"

Rachel blushed a complimentary shade of red as her drunken misdeeds were read out. "I, I don't remember any of that." It was totally adorable, really, enough so that Quinn was going to forget everything and kiss her anyway. Until . . . "So, I take it I didn't kiss you after all?"

Shit! Quinn kept her mouth firmly shut.

"So we never kissed? You really did make it all up to use against me?"

That hurt, that Rachel could still think her capable of it, and she blurted. "No, of course not!"

Rachel seemed at a loss, but it only lasted a moment before that accursed pointing finger made an appearance, accompanied as always by that doom-laden tone: "Quinn Fabray, _you _kissed _me!_"

"Um . . . excuse me? What illegal hallucinogens did you have to take to arrive at _that_ crazy theory, Berry?" she tried.

She failed. It was probably something to do with the fact that she couldn't seem to maintain good eye-conduct at the moment. Whatever the reason, Rachel didn't buy it for a second.

"Why did you instigate the kiss and then _lie_ about it, Quinn?"

Her cell phone ringing from the floor spooked them both, the moment they were sharing so intense they jumped and butted foreheads at the sudden interruption. It was too softly to hurt, but Quinn had other reasons to curse. It was Finn's ringtone blaring.

Guilt rushed through her and then jealousy when Rachel breathlessly said, "Is that Finn?" whilst rubbing her bumped brow. How did she know what ringtone was dedicated to him? And then frustration and annoyance when she added, "You should answer it, he'll be worried if you don't."

She didn't want to answer it but more than that she didn't want Rachel to want her to answer it. She dutifully left the bed to retrieve it though.

"Hi."

"_Hey, I called your house to see if you were okay? 'Cause you, like, left in kind of a hurry. I figured you were feeling sick again or something, but nobody answered. Did you go someplace else instead? Is everything okay?"_

He didn't sound annoyed that she might have lied to him, only concerned. It made the guilt ten times worse and, really, how much more guilty could she handle being over him.

"Uh, no, I'm at home," she lied, glancing (guiltily) at Rachel, who had moved to sit cross-legged facing the muted TV. "I was napping in my room. I guess I didn't hear the phone."

"_But you're okay?"_

"Yes, I had a touch of morning sickness a little while ago but I found a way to make it stop super-fast."

She saw Rachel smile before the other girl ducked her head to hide it.

"_That's awesome. What is it?"_

Sniffing the neck of your little crush . . . and my major crush. "It's really simple actually, I can't believe I didn't discover it before today, but the scent of lemon fabric softener really does the trick."

Rachel rolled her eyes.

Finn laughed, _"That's kinda weird. Hey, you know what we should do? We should get my Mom some so she can wash my clothes in it and then I can be your morning sickness cure. That way we could spend more time together."_

Her nose wrinkled. "I don't think that will work, Finn. Besides, I'm not just going to start sniffing _people_, even you."

Rachel clapped a hand over her mouth just in time to muffle the snort of laughter, and if Quinn wasn't feeling 'The Guilt' she would have walked over and sniffed her neck just to get that reaction again.

"_No, I guess that would be really weird._" She kept her offended 'Hey!' behind clenched teeth. _"But you know whose clothes always smell kinda lemony? Rachel's!" _ Quinn's breath caught in her throat and suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore. _"You should totally, like, sit next to her as much as you can, in Glee and classes and stuff, 'cause it might help. See, this is just another reason why you two should be friends."_

He sounded smug but she knew exactly how to wipe that away. She turned an arched eyebrow to Rachel as well as she asked, "And how do you know what Berry smells like?"

Rachel's eyes widened like she was suddenly scared for her life at the same time as Finn started spluttering.

"_Uh, like, just from dancing. In Glee! You know, how like when we do duets together and Mr. Schue makes us dance all close." _His nervous laughter was both amusing and grating.

"That better be the only reason."

Rachel mouthed, "Hypocrite much?" and Quinn glared at her.

"_That's it, I swear. I mean, how else would I know?"_ When she didn't answer, too busy exchanging a fiery stare with Rachel he cleared his throat. _"So, if you're feeling better I should probably just let you get some sleep. I didn't mean to call this late and wake you anyway, I was just, you know, worried."_

"It's okay; I'm glad that you called. I'll see you in school."

"_Okay. Night, Quinn."_

"Goodnight." She cancelled the call with a sigh. "Sorry about that. He called the house but obviously I didn't answer."

"And he was worried about you," Rachel sounded resigned but not unfriendly.

"I guess." After a glance at the time she slotted the cell into the relevant pocket of her book bag. Finn had been right, it was late, much later than she'd thought. "I should probably go. My curfew is in half an hour."

"Oh!" Rachel jumped from the bed to look at the clock on her DVD player. "I didn't realize it was ten 'o' clock already. I haven't even recorded my MySpace video yet!"

"So skip it."

"And deprive the Cheerios of their daily amusement? That doesn't seem fair," she said wryly, and she was already clearing her homework from the floor to make space.

"Do you want me to see _myself_ out?" Quinn asked, offended by the fact that Rachel didn't even want to talk about picking up where they'd left off before the interruption. Not that she would have done, not now the moment was over, but it would have been nice if Rachel had at least wanted to.

"No, of course not. Just give me a sec . . . why is there money on the floor?"

Quinn blushed for who knew why as Rachel picked up and looked quizzically at the fifteen dollars.

"It's for the pizza. I meant to mention it," she lied. She'd forgotten it was even there.

"Oh, well thank you, but you can have it back."

Quinn didn't take it. "No, it's fine . . ."

"Quinn, please, you paid for everything on our first date, at least let me get the pizza on our second date."

"_This _wasn't a date!"

"Yes, well, neither was our first. I find myself looking extremely forward to our third not-a-date though; from what I understand that is traditionally when girls let their date's get to second base."

She choked on a laugh. "Rachel!"

"Did I get that wrong?" was the all too innocent reply.

"That is so never going to happen!"

Rachel finally gave into the grin that had been curling at the corners of her lips. "You're not the only one who gets to make inappropriate jokes, Quinn Fabray."

"Whatever." She didn't stop Rachel from pushing the money into her hands this time though. She tucked it into her bag before zipping it up. "So."

"I'll see you out."

At the front door Rachel shuffled her feet and Quinn redundantly said, "So." again as a little of the intensity they'd shared before came back now it was time to say goodbye.

"Thank you for bringing my scarf over."

"Thank you for . . . well, everything."

Rachel nodded. "If you'd like to talk about the Mrs. Schuester thing again at any time, I'm here."

"Thank you."

Now there was really nothing left to do but open the door and leave. Quinn got as far as opening the door anyway before they ended up just staring at each other again.

"So." It was Rachel that said it this time.

Quinn nodded, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I would imagine so."

It was getting cold standing around with the door open.

"I should . . ."

"Goodbye, Quinn."

She smiled, "Goodbye, Rachel."

Impulsively she leaned in to kiss Rachel on the cheek and Rachel craned her neck to return the gesture, but getting their cheeks crossed they both missed their intended mark.

Rachel's fingertips flew to her mouth as she jerked back from the accidental lip-on-lip contact, muffling her automatic apology. "Sorry, I didn't mean to."

Quinn's lips were tingling and she took a sharp step back. "Me too! I mean, it's okay. It just . . . whatever. I should go."

Rachel nodded frantically. Quinn nodded back, probably just as frantically and then tore her gaze from Rachel's eyes and walked out of the house.

Rachel was still standing there when Quinn looked up again from unlocking her car, even though she could see her shivering from here. She gave the girl a shy wave and smiled when it was returned, before sliding into the driver's seat.

She waited until she was on the road before she even let herself think.

'_Fuck!'_

_Language._

'_Give me this one. I really didn't mean to start anything and now . . .' _The roads were quiet at a quarter past ten on a Tuesday night and offered no distraction. _'I just really messed everything up, didn't I?'_

_Do you think you did?_

'_I think it's not going to be easy to put these worms back in the can.'_

_But you want to?_

'_Need to. Have to. Don't know how to.'_

_If you're that worried about it, why are you smiling?_

Quinn's smile grew as she pulled into her driveway.

'_It won't go away!'_


	34. Talk to me, like lovers do

Hi again. Thanks for all of the reviews :)

Chapter title and the lyrics included are from Celine Dion's song Taking Chances.

And massive thanks to my awesome beta Electra126 :)

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter Thirty-Four: Talk To Me, Like Lovers Do.<strong>

As Rachel set up the camcorder to record she decided to keep it simple tonight and perform a song she'd already rehearsed several times already just a couple of weeks ago. It didn't hurt that it was also a song that expressed _exactly_ how she was feeling after an evening filled with such an overwhelming combination of frustration and wonderment.

After finding the instrumental version of the song in her iTunes library she pressed the relevant buttons on both computer and camera. Stepping back onto her mark, she took a deep breath and began to sing:

"_Don't know much about your life,_

_Don't know much about your world,_

_But I don't know want to be alone tonight_

_On this planet they call Earth . . ."_

Satisfied with her very first take – either due to the late hour or all of the elation she was feeling – it only took her a matter of minutes in Windows Movie Maker to tweak the video to her liking and start uploading it to her MySpace account. She restlessly tapped her fingers on her desk afterwards, wondering what to do next. She should be getting ready for bed - it was nearly eleven now after all - but she couldn't even imagine laying down with the way her mind and body were still buzzing from her evening, let alone being able to sleep.

She opened her Facebook account just for something to read. With only nineteen friends – eight of which were family members while the rest had been forced into friending her because of the Glee community page – it didn't take her very long to read up on the current events in their lives.

Finn had not been doing his History homework in favor of unlocking a new level on Crash Tag Team Racing.

Brittany's cat had apparently retuned all of the pre-set channels on her TV and was refusing to tell her how to change them back again.

Mercedes had seen fit to inform the world that she, Kurt, Tina and Artie had gone to Breadstix for dinner.

Kurt had further added that he was never having the ravioli again.

Artie had posted a couple of pictures of the four of them scootched deep into the booth and grinning happily at the camera.

She had to admit it hurt not to have been invited. Team-Berry was clearly not developing the friendships with her fellow Glee Clubbers in the way she had hoped.

Then she remembered her own night and smiled. And had an idea.

**Rachel Barbra Berry **Has had the Best! Night! Ever!

That would show them!

She pulled up the chat box, just in case, but only her Grandma and Santana were online so she shut it down again.

She was carrying the pizza box and their empty soda cans downstairs when her Dad came through the front door.

"Ooh, save any for me?" he asked, making a playful grab for the box.

"There's a couple of slices left," she promised as she went up on tiptoes to give him a kiss hello on the cheek and then twirled with the box over her head to walk through to the kitchen.

"You ate nearly an entire large pizza by yourself?" he asked in disbelief, following her.

She blushed because, well it felt like a blushing moment. "No, of course not. I had a friend over."

He paused with his jacket dangling from one arm, clearly in shock. "Really?" At her timid grin his own, almost identical grin blossomed. "Sweetpea!"

He dropped his briefcase on the table and came forward to hug her, dangling jacket and all. He pulled back almost at once.

"Wait, it wasn't that Mike boy you told us about was it? Because I'm not happy about you being alone in the house with some kid we haven't even met yet."

"No, Dad! I think I know the rules well enough by now even if I've never had the chance to break them yet. It was . . ." she faltered, because there were certain female names that he could react just as negatively too and she wasn't sure if Quinn would want her informing _anyone _that she had visited. ". . . a female friend. From Glee."

He eyed her, sensing her reluctance. "Mercedes?"

"No."

"Tina?"

Wow, she really did talk too much. She couldn't even remember mentioning either of them. "No."

He was racking his brains, trying to remember other names that had dropped into conversation over the course of the last month. "Help me out, Sweetpea?"

She took a breath and decided she had no real reason to lie. It wasn't like her Dad was going to start gossiping with the student body of William McKinley High School anytime soon.

"It was Quinn Fabray, and before you say anything, she came to return a scarf I loaned her last week and was perfectly cordial the entire time she was here."

Mostly.

"Russell Fabray's girl?"

"Yes."

"Huh." He finished removing his coat and hung it on his designated peg in the small anteroom by the back door. When he came back in he gave her a look she couldn't read, which was very rare and made her extremely curious. "So you two are friends now?"

"We're . . . not exactly friends but we've discovered a few areas of common interest." She turned her back, placing the pizza box on the kitchen island to hide another blush.

"Okay." He moved to put the tea-kettle on. "Well, she's welcome here, I guess – as long as she remains cordial. Would you like some tea?"

"Yes please. Herbal, though, I'm just going to get ready for bed."

He glanced at the clock and noticed how late it was. "Good idea. I'll bring it up when it's ready."

She accepted a kiss on the top of her head and was about to leave the kitchen when he called her back.

"But you had fun tonight, with Quinn?"

She nodded, a big grin taking over her face that she just couldn't help.

"I'm glad, Rachel."

She hesitated, "I thought you might be upset, because of . . . everything."

This wasn't just about the way Quinn had treated her in school, she knew. The Fabray name had been unpopular in the Berry home for as long as she could remember. It certainly predated the first lesson of eighth grade English, when assigned seating had allowed her to make the acquaintance of the new girl that everybody else was already talking about. Back then she'd only known that her dad and Quinn's worked for opposing companies on opposite sides of the law. That had changed with the Fabray's move to Lima; now they worked for the _same_ company on opposites of the law. Rachel knew – from slips in conversation and random nuggets she'd eavesdropped – that tensions occasionally ran high between the reluctant colleagues so it wasn't impossible that LeRoy Berry might have a reaction to his daughter fraternizing with the 'enemy'.

"I'm . . . cautious of her intent, I'll admit," he said, but then smiled reassuringly, "but true friends often come in unexpected packages. If you're prepared to give her a second chance, I'm sure it's because you feel she's worthy of it."

She released a sub-conscious sigh of relief that her dad was so fair-minded. Now she just really hoped he was right to trust her judgement.

She really hoped _she_ was right to trust it too.

* * *

><p>Quinn was still smiling; she was also still berating herself pretty harshly as she shut herself into her bedroom for the night.<p>

"I'm so stupid! Why am I so stupid?" She flicked her computer into life on the way to her bathroom. "I so shouldn't have gone over there."

She stripped for a shower.

"I can't believe I actually _admitted _stuff. _Why_ did I admit to stuff?"

She'd just made life so much harder for herself. She'd never planned on coming clean, but . . . in hindsight her big stupid moment had had an air of inevitability as soon as she'd set foot in the door. Like everything from breaking down in Rachel's arms, to their argument about Mike and then the dancing together had all been stepping stones to that confession.

The big problem she had now was this: she may have reached a place where she could actually be honest with Rachel, but she'd stumbled there blind. She was no more ready to face this now than she had been yesterday, but when she'd thrown her feelings into the ring, she'd thrown any chance she had to ignore them out of the window.

Now she felt stranded in the middle of a raging river of fear and insecurity, balancing on a rock formed only out of Rachel's belief that they had a shot. It was a very flimsy rock, and it wobbled, and the only thing Quinn had to hand, the _only _thing that was stopping her from plunging into the rapids, being pulled under and completely _drowning_ in all of that fear and insecurity, was this ridiculously wide smile on her face that wouldn't go away!

Shaking her head at her face's inability to appreciate just how serious a mess she'd made for herself, she turned the shower dial to cold, very cold, and then plunged into that instead.

She shivered throughout but at least it took her mind off of things for five minutes and made her finally lose that damn smile. Still shivering once she was in her bathrobe she rubbed her towel roughly over her legs as she hopped back into her bedroom, trying to dry off as quickly as possible to warm up.

Back at her computer desk ten minutes later she was feeling marginally more in control. That lasted until she checked her Facebook account. Snarling at the screen she added her own thoughts on the subject and then, without logging out, pulled up a fresh tab and checked MySpace for updates.

She wasn't disappointed, but as she watched the newly uploaded video . . . Oh, God; her lips twitched once, twice and then it was back, that smile, as bright and blind as before.

Total, empty, can of worms.

* * *

><p>Rachel, showered and ready for bed, sat back down at her computer with her hot bedtime tea in one hand and refreshed her Facebook page with her other. A second later her eyes went wide.<p>

**Rachel Barbra Berry **Has had the Best! Night! Ever!

**Mike Chang **Awesome. What did you do? Are we still on for tomorrow?

**Quinn Fabray **OMG Chang! Are you that desperate? Leave Manhands alone already! Have some respect for yourself!

She stared at the screen, not knowing how to take Quinn's reply to Mike's. Her first instinct was to recoil from it and never speak to her again but . . . but didn't she know better than to take Quinn's words at face value now?

Deciding to deal with it later, she logged out and checked her MySpace page. Three responses!

One was clearly from Santana: 'If you need any help I'll push you off of that edge.'

Another Cheerio was probably responsible for the second: 'U don't no much abt singing either, do U.'

The third was a username she'd never seen before and she smiled despite herself.

**Quintruder: **I've been trying to find this song for the past couple of weeks but I don't know who it's by.

The message had been left ten minutes ago but Rachel replied anyway, hoping it wasn't too late to start a dialogue.

**Rachel Barbra Berry: **Celine Dion. Why were you trying to find it?

A couple of minutes passed before a response came through.

**Quintruder: **Someone was singing it after a party recently. And I kind of liked it.

Rachel smiled. She couldn't remember spontaneously bursting into song after Puck's party but then she couldn't remember doing a few other things that Quinn had liked that night either (liked enough to drive her home and kiss her!).

**Rachel Barbra Berry: **I sang it for my audition. For the school musical.

**Quintruder: **Shouldn't you be asleep by now, Berry?

**Rachel Barbra Berry: **I'm not tired :)

**Quintruder: **Whatever. You know what to do.

After deleting the conversation she logged back into Facebook. A few seconds later her computer went _blip_ and her chat-box popped into existence at the bottom of her screen.

Beneath the name, in an off-white speech bubble, was the sentence: **"****I'm not tired either." **

Rachel wasted no time in typing back and hitting her enter key: "**Why were you so mean to Mike?"**

She preferred the delicate shade of blue of her own speech bubbles,she decided, over Quinn's almost grey. It would look even better pink. Was there a way to change it?

"**He annoys me."**

Mike Chang was probably in the top three in the least annoying people in the world category, if not number one. ** "****Why?"**

"**Can we not talk about him?"**

Rachel stared at the speech bubble wondering whether or not to push the subject. It really boiled down to whether or not it might benefit her to.

"**What did you want to talk about instead?"**

"**I don't know." **appeared, quickly followed by: **"****Why did you choose that song?"**

The reason wasn't that interesting, so Rachel decided to try for a bit of mystery.** "Why did you think I sang it? :)"**

"**I don't know, but the lyrics are kind of"**

She frowned at the sentence that was just cut off mid-way, and then she smiled, **"Kind of what? Suitable?"**

"**No. Maybe. I guess I don't know."**

"**I promise you I am just as confused."**

"**Really?"**

She was about to type back an affirmative when more text appeared from Quinn's end. **"You always strike me as someone who knows exactly what they want."**

She smiled more. **"****Oh, I know exactly what I want. I just also know it's unrealistic to want it."**

It was over a minute before the next message came through.

"**What do you want?" **

Rachel had typed out the Y and O before she thought better of it. **"What do you want?"**

"**Life to be simpler."**

"**I remember you saying you relished a challenge."**

There was another pause between answers.

"**Maybe this is more of a challenge than I'm ready for."**

What did she say to that? Yes you are, of course you are. Rachel didn't even know if _she _was ready for it. This thing with Quinn, whatever it could turn into, was terrifying on so many levels.

Chickening out but wanting to keep the conversation flowing, she settled for, **"****And by this . . . you mean?"**

Quinn refused to settle for _that_. **"If you don't know by now I don't know why we're having this conversation."**

It was kind of an avoidance, but also kind of straight to the point, so all she typed back was: **"Okay, I do. Sorry."**

Quinn was quiet and Rachel hummed a few bars of _'Taking Chances' _before deciding a change of topic was the safest way to go.

"**Now that things are better between us we should probably find a way to end the Glee war. It's really not good for the club and with Sectionals coming up we need morale to be strong, not non-existent."**

"**What do you suggest? I can't wave a white flag."** Quinn sent. **"Not now. Santana was already suspicious and after today Brittany will be too. I really screwed up at lunch."**

"**You saved my life!" **her fingers blurted out onto the screen.

"**lol over dramatic, much. Oh, wait, it's you ;)"**

Rachel didn't see the funny side. **"****Santana was ready to pound me into sausage meat and while I can talk a good game I am in no way equipped in physical self-defence." **Even just thinking about it gave her the wobblies. **"I'm actually a little concerned as to what will happen the next time she catches me alone."**

"**I'm not going to let her hurt you if I can help it." **Rachel smiled. **"But as lame as I think they are, staying close to Team-Berry will help."**

She lost her smile. **"****They all went out without me tonight."**

"**So I saw. Told you they weren't your friends."**

Rachel nodded to herself.

"**Your night wasn't so bad though, was it?"**

"**You saw my status update didn't you?"**

Quinn just sent a: **:)**

Rachel was still basking in the smiley when Quinn typed something else. **"A****re you still hanging out with Mike tomorrow?"**

She hadn't even thought about Mike since Quinn had sung to her; well, maybe for a moment or three while she'd been on Facebook, but it didn't feel like that counted when she'd been mostly focused on Quinn's reaction to it anyway.

"**Not sure." **Felt like the most honest answer she could give.

"**What does that mean?"**

Why was Quinn even asking? Why did she have such a massive problem with Mike anyway? It wasn't like Quinn wanted her. Or okay, maybe she kind of maybe sort of wanted her a little bit, but she wasn't making any claims to be her girlfriend or anything. In fact that seemed to be the exact opposite of what Quinn wanted from her. So why did she always seem to hate Mike so much? He wasn't her boyfriend or anything; sure they'd been on a date and held hands a few times but they'd never even kissed!

Quinn's behavior towards Mike was infuriating, especially considering she had her own very bonefide boyfriend.

"**Are you seeing Finn after school tomorrow?"**

Despite Rachel's deliberations, Quinn's response was instant. **"****I don't know. It'll depend on how I feel at the time." **

The blasé attitude just made her more annoyed. **"****Well, then, I guess who I hang out with tomorrow afternoon will depend on how I feel at the time."**

There was a long pause, long enough for Rachel to start kicking herself. They'd been getting on so well again and she'd spoiled it with jealousy. And hadn't Quinn told her earlier that she wouldn't accept any jealousy directed at her and Finn's relationship? She dug her toes into her carpet in frustration and ran a hand through her damp hair as she wondered whether to apologize for her comment or just exit Facebook altogether and deal with it tomorrow.

A new message appeared before she could choose: **"Are you asking me to hang out tomorrow after school?"**

Okay then. That had to be the first time that the lack of appropriate inflection that cyber-conversing suffered from was actually a good thing. The computer was a social genius – it had taken her jealous snipe and turned it into _flirting_. But, um . . . Now what did she say?

"**Yes?"**

"**Okay."**

Seriously?

Rachel stood up from her desk chair with her arms held out because it felt like a suitably dramatic move, but there was no audience, so feeling a little foolish, she sank back down again.

"**Nowhere that *sniffing* might be viable though. Just as friends."**

Rachel nodded, a lot.

No one could see that either.

She tried to think of an intelligent response, but Quinn had just agreed to a genuine social outing with her (not a _date_, but close enough!) so it was a little hard to think at all. Her fingers were poised over her keyboard for at least a minute before she could get it together to type anything at all.

"**Okay. Breadstix?"**

She didn't think much of the restaurant really. To a genuine lover of Italian food prepared correctly, Breadstix was an insult; plus they only had two or three vegetarian options on the menu and the only vegan offering was the garden salad. It was still the most popular date venue in Lima for the under twenty-one's though, and Quinn would no doubt assume it was a given that they would go there. Rachel was more than prepared to suffer a few menu choices if it meant she was able to dine with Quinn.

"**No, s****omewhere less public."**

Rachel didn't even blink because she didn't even care. She'd meet Quinn on the far side of the moon if that was what she was most comfortable with.

Although she did have some limits.

"**I'm not going to your horse eating restaurant!"**

"**lol I wasn't asking you on a date, Berry. Not now that I know what you expect from a third date." **

Rachel blushed.

"**How about the Movie Box?"**

She'd never heard of it. **"****The what?"**

"**It's downtown. You pay ten bucks to sit in a booth and watch a movie of your choice. Popcorn's free."**

Rachel smiled again. It sounded kind of like a date-type place.

"**That sounds acceptable."**

"**Ok, it's almost twelve-thirty. We should probably at least try and sleep."**

Rachel just sent a sad faced smiley.

"**See you tomorrow, Rachel." **

Okay, so this was really happening. She could have kept messaging all night, but she didn't want to come across as needy.

"**Goodnight, Quinn. Sleep well."**

"**You too. x"**

Despite the speediness of her fingers Quinn had already logged off before Rachel could send her own final message with a kiss attached.

She sighed, disappointed but hardly miserable as she shut down her computer for the night. At the very least she had another friend date scheduled for after school tomorrow.

When she finally fell asleep around 1:30am it was with a huge smile on her face and there were nothing but good dreams waiting for her . . .

. . . except for the one about the McRachel burgers being the seasonal special at McDonalds, but that one was recurring so probably had nothing to do with Quinn, right?


	35. Rumor Has It

I've had this ready for a month but between Nanowrimo, family health issues, thirtieth birthdays and work stuff I'm afraid it hasn't been the highest priority. That's about to change :) Thanks for your patience.

**Chapter Thirty-Five**:

Rumor Has It.

Quinn was physically and emotionally exhausted Wednesday morning. She didn't even know how she managed to back her car out of her drive without falling asleep at the wheel, let alone drive to school. She'd had close to zero sleep thanks to the whirlwind of thoughts spinning through her over-active mind.

The resulting tiredness hadn't stopped her from leaping out of bed twenty minutes before her alarm was due to wake her. Why just lay there thinking when she could get a head-start on doing? Not that she knew exactly what she was going to _do_ – she still wasn't convinced it was a good idea to do anything at all – but her blood was singing in her veins, pumping her full of energy and the time for action was now . . .

Or something a little less _'Die Hard'_ lame.

Her suspiciously awesome mood took its first hit on the way to school and it was probably a good thing.

She was driving when the text came through and with one hand holding the steering wheel steady, her other dug around in her bag, groping between books and pens, hairbrushes and make-up to find her cell phone. With the finesse of long-term practice she pulled into the school lot and shot straight into her Cheerios designated parking spot while opening and reading Santana's message.

_Britt wants to know what's wrong with you. Told her it's just the preggo hormones making you suck so bad. Quit playing for both sides. You really want to be against us, Q? Do you really think that's your best option?_

Quinn scoffed at her phone because she could see her two 'best friends' standing up at the top of the steps by the entrance and it was hard to tell if they'd noticed her arrive from there. She wasn't taking any chances, because _inside _she was worried. This was exactly the kind of thing she had been dreading, and the exact reason why she couldn't be friends with Rachel. If Santana felt spurned this could easily turn into a three way war with Team-Fabray caught all alone in the middle of Team-Berry and Team-Lopez and, really? . . . surely the fact that she was even thinking in dorky terms like thatwas a good reason for never speaking to Rachel Berry again.

That coaxed a smile from her, one that grew and birthed an idea.

_Get a life, San. I really have more important things to worry about. But for the record there is no 'against you' there is only 'against me' and I really don't think you're ready to go there. _

Not that it would take the girl long to get ready, probably less than half a day to secure the allegiance of enough people on the squad to ensure her captaincy was in name only and meaningless. It would only take Coach Sylvester one practice after that to see how ineffective she'd become and then she wouldn't even have that much.

This could become a nightmare.

She watched as Santana received her text; even from here she could see the narrowing of her eyes and the tight smirk on her calculating face. A few seconds later her phone beeped.

_Guess we'll see where the chips land today. But I don't look up to anyone who doesn't deserve it and if you don't come correct about this sick Berry obsession of yours I will be looking down on you in the extremely near future._

Impressive. She'd managed to set her heart racing in fear with a direct Rachel reference and get her blood boiling with the thinly veiled threat to her position as head cheerleader. Santana really should know better than to try so hard.

_Please. Do whatever you want. We both know that whatever happens I will ALWAYS top you. And as for Stubbles, you're the one who has a weird interest in getting your hands on her all the time. _

She hit send and then, mind racing even faster now that the bar had been set higher, thought of a way to deflect all of this unhealthy attention for a while.

_Wait, are you jealous because I took the dwarf on that fake date for Finn? God, that explains so much._

The reply was about as immediate as it gets.

_Screw you, Fabray!_

She laughed for real, sending back a quick _LOL _as she watched Santana begin ranting emphatically to a taken-aback Brittany.

Despite her bravado she knew she couldn't risk Santana calling her bluff, because being on the Cheerios was the only stable thing in her life right now. She wasn't losing it, or the power that came with it, for anything and certainly not to create an even bigger mess than she was already in.

Nothing and nobody was worth that.

She had to get a grip on this situation and that began with resetting the natural order. She'd been fairly passive in the Glee Civil War so far, letting Santana take charge because Quinn had been more focused on not throwing up her baby and whatever Rachel drama she was dealing with at the time. Obviously that had been a mistake and it had gone to Santana's head. So the first thing she had to do was initiate a new wave of attacks against Berry's band of losers. If she was proactive then Santana would, for a while at least, just back off and enjoy the show, which meant she could keep the worst of the heat off of Rachel. She couldn't spare her completely obviously because that would be suspicious, but better for her to find a bacon sandwich on her pillow than to find Santana's fist in her eye.

Second order of business, she had to shut things down with Berry. She already knew she'd been an idiot to let it get this far, to a point where she was spending time with her outside of school and, you know, almost kissing her. This was her wake up call, her cold cup of coffee to the face, and she was happy for it. She had a legitimate reason (beyond being scared to death) to push this thing between them into a dark corner and never acknowledge it again. It wasn't cowardice if you had a valid need for walking (running) away.

She would have to cancel their friend-date that afternoon. She was torn on how she felt about that. She'd been looking forward to it, which made it suck, but she'd been looking forward to it a little too much and that was worse.

Obviously she would let her down as gently as she could, explain the situation as it was, and Berry would understand because she was that kind of person, and providing Quinn didn't leave any wiggle room she'd get the message that it was completely over. Not just for now, but forever. Quinn would move on from this, quickly, because she hadn't been lying about already having too much to deal with, and a few weeks down the line when this nightmare was behind her she'd laugh in disbelief from the top of the pyramid over how she'd ever given Berry brain-time in the first place.

It was all going to be fiiii. . . Rachel was walking in front of her car.

She was several spaces away as she passed along the walkway dissecting the parking lot between the drop off point and the entrance to school, but most kids didn't walk that purposefully so she was kind of distinctive. Also most kids didn't wear tartan skirts that were only half an inch longer than their lightweight Fall jacket. It was the skirt Quinn may have mentioned she liked and it crossed her mind that Rachel had worn it for her. It was only a flash of a thought and she felt silly for even thinking it but it brought that stupid, embarrassing, goofy smile back to her face instantly.

Rachel hadn't noticed Quinn sitting in her car and she only just kept from honking her horn to get her attention – along with everyone else's! At the same time, she realized she was full of crap. Last night had opened that damn can of worms and now she was up to her neck in them. There was no way she could walk away from this feeling and there was no way she was letting Rachel down . . . or, if she did, it probably wouldn't be gently.

* * *

><p>Rachel was feeling surprisingly bouncy for so little sleep as she entered the school. She didn't even mind that she'd entered it head first thanks to Santana's slyly positioned ankle.<p>

Picking herself up with a bright, care-free smile, she dusted off the debris from the floor, retrieved her bag from the trampling feet of her fellow students and headed for her locker.

She stowed her gym bag right at the back – bringing her first grimace of the day as she remembered how much fun the last class had been – and checked her lesson planner. It was needless because she already knew her schedule back to front but it was a part of her routine and it never hurt to double check. She removed her biology text book and placed it into her bag, making sure it didn't rumple the history homework she'd brought from home. She wasn't sure what kind of mark she could hope for considering many of the answers were a good part nonsense but it cheered her to know that Quinn's answers were just as bad – although not identical because neither of them were stupid.

She was meticulously tidying her locker while absently humming '_Taking Chances' – _in the hope that she might get a glimpse of Quinn arriving at her own locker before the bell rang – when she was cheerfully greeted from behind.

"Hello, Rachel."

"What's up?"

Mercedes and Kurt joined her on her left and right side respectively. She looked to them long enough to give them each a tight smile before turning her attention back to straightening out her folders.

"What did you do last night? Anything interesting?"

"Yeah, spill, Girl. What exactly goes into making Rachel Berry's best night ever?"

Rachel's smile grew. She didn't mind that they'd only come for gossip. After all, wasn't that what friends did with one another?

"My social engagement last night was a private affair, thank you very much. How was Breadstix?"

"Breadstix is . . ." Mercedes waved a hand in the air. "You eat breadsticks, it's boring. Tell us about this affair."

"Yes," Kurt leaned closer in a conspiratorial way but didn't actually bother to drop his voice. "Anyone we know?"

Rachel glanced furtively around as if she was . . . glancing furtively around, not that she was actually planning on giving them any details, not even vague ones. Quinn was at her locker now, with Finn beside her. Santana and Brittany were at the blonde's locker at the other end of the hall. Apparently there was still a rift between the three Cheerios this morning.

"I'm divulging nothing. A true lady knows how to be discreet."

"Don't tell me you had a _date_ last night, Manhands?" She hadn't even realized Quinn was walking behind her until the acerbic comment was thrown out.

She spun to face her, books cradled protectively against her chest. "I may have. What's it to you?"

Quinn sneered, "I'm just wondering what they put in the slushies around here that turns the boys into freak-loving _morons_."

She snapped her head around as she passed Mike, giving him a withering glare on the last word. At the end of the corridor it only took the slightest nod of her head in their direction and suddenly Santana and Brittany were falling into step behind her again, with Santana turning to sneer over her shoulder at Rachel.

For her part, it had all happened so fast Rachel just blinked after them until Mike was by her side.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She turned back to her locker to push the door closed.

"Someone needs to take her down a few hundred pegs," Mike continued, his voice calmer than the distaste in his eyes as he glared after the trio.

Rachel just shook her head. True, the sharp delivery and the sneer on Quinn's face had been unpleasant, but she wasn't going to let the words affect her. Why would she when Quinn had confessed only last night to being one of the _'freak-loving morons'_?She was fairly sure from Kurt's curious expression that she was smiling inappropriately.

"Oh, we got that covered, right guys!" Artie rolled up, offering Mercedes a high-five.

She obliged, chuckling, "We sure have."

"What do you mean?" She felt apprehensive but at least now her bright smile didn't seem so out of place.

Tina had come up behind Artie. "W-w-we came up w-with some more ideas l-l-last night."

"Like what?" Mike didn't seem to know whether to smile or not. "It'll have to be smart. Quinn and her friends might be a lot of things, but they aren't idiots. _And _they're expecting you to react, so they'll be waiting."

It was both flattering and bothersome that he was so eager to join Team-Berry.

Kurt explained. "Well, to start with we thought we could slightly expand the circle of those in the know."

She didn't get it. "Those who know what?"

"Shall we say, Quinn's little predicament."

"NO!" The volume she'd used had shocked them all by the way they were leaning back from her. "That is an unspeakably cruel idea. That information is highly personal and sensitive and not something that should even be considered as fair game. How would you like it Mercedes, or you Tina, if you were in her situation and Quinn spread it around the school."

"I wouldn't like it, but I also wouldn't be surprised," Mercedes argued. "You know full well she'd do it too. So would Santana and Brittany. 'Fact I'm surprised they haven't already done it to Quinn."

"But isn't the point of all this to prove that we're better than them?"

"I thought the point was to prove we won't take their crap lying down anymore," Artie said sincerely.

"Well, that too, but spreading gossip about . . . _that_, is shameful and frankly I'm surprised such a disgusting idea ever entered any of your heads. You're better than that; Team-Berry is better than that."

To their credit, they each did look ashamed of themselves, if defiantly so.

"It was just one idea," Mercedes snapped quietly. "What have you got?"

Like she'd spent last night thinking up ways to _hurt_ Quinn.

"Um?"

"We also came up with just letting slip that maybe her vow of celibacy isn't as binding as everyone thinks it is."

She glared at Artie until he looked down at his knees. Then she thought about it. "That could work for Santana though."

After all, it was true – much truer than for Quinn. In fact, she didn't know how Santana managed to keep a straight face in celibacy club when everyone in Glee knew she still hooked up with Puck on a regular basis despite having ended their relationship the month before.

"And for Brittany . . ."

"We're not touching Brittany again," Kurt said quickly.

"T-t-that s-soup was really h-hot!"

She nodded, "Okay, I'll handle Brittany."

"What are you going to do to her?" Mike asked, his decentness showing through when he sounded concerned for the enemy.

She didn't actually intend to do anything, she was still hoping that all of the animosity would just fade away soon and antagonizing anyone wouldn't achieve that. But she had come up with a few ideas of how to torment the tall, blonde cheerleader the weekend before and it was safe enough to share them if everybody else was giving Brittany a wide berth.

"I plan to replace all of her textbooks with foreign language copies. That should keep her busy for a while."

"And Quinn?" Artie asked.

She hid her hesitation under a 'Hmm' and a finger tap to her chin as if she was trying to decide how dastardly to be.

Kurt saw right through her. "You still want us to leave Quinn alone, don't you?"

"Told you the girl has the hots for her," Mercedes said.

"I do not have the hots for Quinn Fabray!" Several other of the still lingering students looked over at her shout but she decided that was okay; the more people that heard her declare such a thing the better. "That's completely ridiculous."

Seeing dubious looks all around, and Mike's slightly hurt look, she knew she had to be drastic. Quinn would thank her for it in the end.

"Actually I did think of taking the tires off of her car and leaving it on blocks, but I dismissed it because I didn't think any of us would be able to achieve it what with our lack of knowledge of tire-changing and upper-body strength." She shot Kurt a look so that he knew he was the target for that particular snipe. "But I guess instead . . ."

"I can change a tire," Kurt sniffed. "My dad does own a garage." But he didn't refute her other point.

"And I might look skinny, but I have the upper body strength." She knew there was a reason she didn't want Mike on Team-Berry.

"But instead . . ." she tried to continue.

It was in vain.

By the time the bell finally rang it was decided Mercedes would use Artie's chair to transport blocks from Auto shop to Quinn's car just as lunch was ending and Kurt and Mike would do the deed in fifth period, with Mercedes as look out, because they all had study hall at the same time.

All Rachel could do about it now was make sure she knew where they planned to hide the tires and hope Finn knew how to put them back on.

* * *

><p>"So we're gonna start a rumor," Santana was saying.<p>

Quinn was reluctantly paying attention because she had no choice. "Haven't we already started like every rumor there is about Berry?"

"No, this one will be epic!" Brittany smiled.

"And what is it?"

Santana shrugged, "That's your job. You always come up with them."

She knew there was a double meaning behind that. It was true she always came up with the slurs about Rachel but this time Santana was testing her to see if she still could.

"Okay, how about she really got Mr. Ryerson fired because she was sleeping with him and he dumped her for that boy whatshisname because he was a better singer?"

It was one she'd already had in her back pocket before things got weird between them.

"I like it. Plays into the fact that she's a tranny too 'cause everyone knows Ryerson is as homo as they come."

"Sure." Quinn shrugged. The bell rang for first period. "I'll let you get started on that then."

"Good to have you back on the team, Quinn," Santana said sarcastically as they were about to part ways.

"You forget, San, it's _my _team."

The rumor would be all around school by lunch time, but it could have been a worse one. She'd make it up to Berry and she already knew how and when.

* * *

><p>By second period Rachel knew people were whispering about her. She didn't know why yet but the signs were all too familiar. As she sat at the front of History class, bad homework neatly on the desk in front of her, she did her best to pay it no mind.<p>

Quinn walked in with Santana once most of the students were already seated but she didn't look at the blonde. She did accidentally make eye-contact with Santana who feinted towards her with bared teeth. Rachel sat back hurriedly but summoned up a disdainful glare for the girl. Quinn pretended not to notice any of it as the two Cheerios passed her to take their seats at the back.

The lesson started almost immediately afterwards and she forced her concentration on to that instead.

The lesson was half over and Quinn was bored. She'd been bored from the start by the group discussion on the Third Reich's advance through Holland but had managed to avoid being called out on it by keeping her eyes attentively focused on the front of the class.

So she wasn't looking at the teacher so much as five feet in front of him, who cared?

Not to be too obvious she did turn briefly to whichever kid had something to say before setting her eyes back where they wanted to be.

During a particularly long explanation by the teacher she made up her mind about something she had been going back and forth on all morning and opened her writing pad to a fresh page.

_Meet me behind the_

She scribbled that out. She didn't want to sound demanding.

_Please will you _

No, she didn't want to sound desperate either.

"What are you writing?" Santana hissed. "Did he say we were supposed to take notes?"

Crap, she'd been so deep into her daydream that she'd stupidly forgotten who was sitting beside her.

"I'm just making a few observations."

_What do you say? You and me behind the_

Was she Puck all of a sudden?

She forced herself to think about it, pen tapping her page.

_If you feel like facing Gym as much as I do today, meet me in __our spot_ _instead. We can have a Council of War or I can exchange a TYH for a fix ;) If you're up for it._

Her fingers were shaking lightly against her pen as she read it back. It was okay.

"Seriously, give me a look at your notes!" Santana made a snatch for them and was met by an elbow in the chest.

"No! Write your own notes and stop trying to copy from me."

"You suck, Fabray," Santana sulked.

"Deal with it."

She'd scribbled out enough tries that she was comfortable turning the page and hiding her message. She made notes for real now, just in case Santana tried to sneak a peek at them.

The last fifteen minutes of the lesson were given over to pairing up and discussing the chapter they'd worked through. She wondered why no teacher ever said anything about how Rachel was never paired up, always working alone on these things. Wouldn't it be more educator-y to make her join another pair and work as a threesome? Quinn wished she had the guts to call her over to join them, but then Rachel probably wouldn't appreciate being made to work with Santana.

"So, you ready to tell me what's going on yet?"

"You heard the same discussion as I did."

"Not about Hitler! About Berry," Santana said, voice just a whisper.

Quinn's chest hurt from the sudden overdose of oxygen. "What?"

"Don't play stupid. You ever think I might stop giving you a hard time about it if you just came clean with me?"

Quinn cut her a withering look. "No, I don't think that at all. And there's nothing to tell. I don't know why you think there is."

"Come on, Q! We're best friends. You don't think I know you well enough to notice when something's happened to turn you into a complete freak?"

Her throat hurt now too because she kind of felt like crying. She managed to keep her voice dry though. "Oh yeah, San, your compassion is overwhelming."

Rachel wouldn't even be able to hear their conversation if it wasn't for the fact that the desk behind her was empty and the one behind that had two students that were either asleep or working alone. But she could. She wished she couldn't because she was bound to hear something she didn't like. That didn't stop her from paying attention though.

"Oh yeah, San," she heard Quinn mutter, "your compassion is overwhelming."

"I'm not trying to be compassionate. I'm trying to get the dirt."

"There is no dirt!"

"Like Hell there's not!"

Rachel cringed over the desk.

"Look, I'll keep it to myself if you want, but you gotta tell me what's down between you and Stubbles."

"Santana, you're wearing my freaking patience with this! There is nothing going on with me and Manhands! Why the hell would there be? I can't even stand to be in the same room as her. I literally want to pull her hair from her head every time I see her."

Rachel hunched even lower over the desk. She knew it was lies, but it wasn't that long ago it was the truth and it was too soon to have such a harsh reminder of it. A part of her hated Quinn for saying these things within earshot; it was a sign of total disrespect.

"Q, quit playing. I've seen it, okay? At first I thought _she_ just wanted _you_ and I felt kinda sorry for you for having to deal with it, not that I didn't think it was hilarious, but you've been acting weird 'round her too."

"No I haven't."

"I saw you at the game last Friday."

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about."

Rachel would have believed her, if she didn't know the truth.

"And you were real eager to kiss her at Puck's party."

Quinn laughed. "I was real eager to not have her kiss Finn actually. Besides, if I'd wanted to kiss her don't you think I would have? I mean, if I was as desperate to lock lips with RuPaul as you think I am, wouldn't I have jumped at the chance to do it and pass it off as just the game?"

"I guess."

Their desk fell silent long enough for Rachel to breathe a sigh of relief. It didn't last long though. Quinn was right, Santana was like a dog with a bone, and Rachel had to admit, bones didn't get much juicier than this.

"But you never explained why you didn't come back from dropping her off for almost an hour."

"Actually, I did. I told you she wouldn't get in my car for ages and then wouldn't get out of it again at her house."

Was that true? Rachel still couldn't remember.

Then Santana changed tracks and she knew the exact moment when Quinn was about to change her story. She just didn't know what she might change it to yet.

"There is something though, and the fact that you're lying to me about it? Doesn't exactly warrant loyalty does it, Q? I thought we always stuck together but if we don't . . . if you don't _trust_ me . . ."

"Okay, fine, whatever! I don't know why I'm even keeping it a secret anyway."

Rachel smiled, but cautiously. The idea of Quinn not keeping _something _a secret was great, but surely a little too good to be true. Not to mention Rachel really wasn't sure she was ready to come out about this yet.

Infuriatingly, Quinn lowering her voice coincided with the boys sat next to her laughing about something and she missed the rest of the conversation.

* * *

><p>"It's really not a big deal," Quinn whispered, stalling until she'd gotten her words in order. "And certainly nothing as horrifying as you're suggesting."<p>

"So what is it?" Santana leaned closer, an eager leer on her lips.

Quinn shrugged, "She found out about the pregnancy before the rest of you. I didn't tell her or anything but, I don't know, she figured it out and confronted me with it. She's been . . . sort of helping me with it ever since."

"Helping you how?" Santana asked suspiciously.

"I don't know. She compiled this whole pregnancy fact sheet for me. She gave me some tips on how to deal with the morning sickness. She . . . she's just always there!" Quinn wrinkled her nose in distaste. "It's not like I want her to be but . . ." she shot Santana a look. ". . . it's not like anyone else has been."

"Hey, I found out about it through Puck, of all people! If you wanted a little support, maybe you should have told me yourself."

"Whatever. Anyway, now you know why she's always hanging around."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Didn't I just say I wasn't? But she won't, I don't know, I can't get rid of her now."

That much was true. Quinn rolled her eyes and turned back to Santana.

"She's helpful, it's like having a seeing-eye dog through pregnancy, a seeing-eye dog with fleas and a terrible taste in collars and dog coats." She really hoped her voice was low enough to not carry to the front of the class. "But it's better than none, you know?"

"Not really," Santana drawled. "But whatever."

Quinn breathed a sigh of relief.

"She's still really obviously into you though."

Quinn took back that sigh of relief so fast. "No, she's not! That's just . . . just what she's like."

"Please, Q! No one is that nice to someone who hates them unless they have some sick infatuation going on."

She couldn't really argue with that and she couldn't explain how it was different with her and Rachel either.

"So maybe she does. Who cares?"

"I care!" Santana actually cackled. "And you should too. We just struck gold!"

"No, I don't want to . . ." she began.

The bell was ringing and Santana didn't care anyway as she jumped out of her seat, still overcome with delight.

"Don't worry about it. Leave it to me, babe."

And with that ominous statement she was gone. Quinn shook her worry off and added one last rushed line to her note before she quickly tore the page in half and folded it into a small square.

She was walking past just as Berry was standing and pushing her book into her bag. She dropped the folded paper onto the desk without looking or slowing down.

* * *

><p>Rachel really, really didn't want to go to Gym that day, understandably after what had happened on Monday, but she also really didn't like skipping mandatory lessons.<p>

In the end the extra 'really' won out.

She dithered over where _'our spot'_ might be – that was after melting over the fact that they even had an _'our spot'_ – because they'd spent alone time in nearly every bathroom in the school just recently, not to mention the locker room, but she was at least ninety-five percent sure of where was meant.

She arrived behind the workshop first and spent ten minutes alone – had she picked the right place after all? She attempted to divert her fretting by re-reading the note over again . . . and again, because it really wasn't a long note. She thought the last line was possibly her favorite.

_P.S. I told you that skirt would look totally hot with a green shirt! x _

Quinn thought she looked hot today!

She hadn't purposefully worn the outfit because of Quinn but when she decided to wear the mini-kilt the other girl's words of advice had come back to her. The forest green shirt she'd chosen was fitted, hugging her breasts and her hips, and she was just tugging the open collar slightly wider to expose what Quinn clearly found to be her best feature – her neck – when the cheerleader finally came around the corner. Her hands dropped guiltily to her sides as she gave her . . . well, she didn't know what Quinn was but she gave her a bright welcoming smile and then realized she had no idea what to say.

Quinn had walked sedately around the corner but she was out of breath, so she had been running at some point. She stopped several feet away and shrugged awkwardly. "Sorry I'm late. It was hard to shake Santana. I had to actually go into the locker room with her and hide in the bathroom until everyone had finished changing."

"That's okay." Rachel smiled. "So?"

"So, uh." Quinn took a few steps closer. "Did you want to discuss exit strategies?"

"I think we should, and that reminds me, you'd be wise to move your car at lunch. Preferably off of school grounds."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't it will be wheel-less by the time you leave school. Or, should I say, _try _and leave school."

"Okay." Quinn chuckled over it. "Whose idea was that?"

"Mine. Sorry! I didn't think anyone would go for it. Team-Berry isn't known for its physical prowess. But now we have Mike."

Quinn's eyes narrowed at his name, and then un-narrowed. "It's no big deal, I'll just move my car." She hesitated before continuing. "There's a rumor going around about you."

Rachel sighed, her sixth sense was never wrong. "I figured. What is it?"

"That you got Mr. Ryerson fired because he stopped sleeping with you for a better singer."

"He was not a better singer!" She paused to recognize how that sounded. "And I was not sleeping with that letch!"

"I know."

"Was this Santana's work? Because if so I think I have to up my game. No more Mister . . ."

"No, it was me."

"Oh."

"Santana would have come up with worse!"

"Perhaps."

"You know she would have."

"Maybe."

There was a tense, silent stalemate for a minute. Rachel broke it first, not able to take the heated look in Quinn's eyes anymore.

"So you wanted to discuss strategy."

Quinn took another couple of steps closer. "Not really."

"So your morning sickness is severe?"

"Yeah, it's bad."

Quinn looked in perfect health despite flushed cheeks.

"Well, if I can help?"

Quinn took another step closer. "I don't want to take advantage."

Rachel smiled bashfully, "I was hoping for this even before I got your note. Not for you to feel sick obviously," she added quickly. "Just, you know, to spend some time with you."

Quinn's answering smile was equally shy but she sounded confident when she said, "Lean up against the wall."

Rachel raised curious eyebrows but walked backwards a few steps until her shoulders met the rough brick of the workshop. Quinn followed her, arms sliding around her waist and nose tucking against the collar of the light jacket she was wearing.

"Is this okay?" she mumbled.

"No."

Quinn pulled backwards immediately which was perfect because it gave Rachel the room to unzip her jacket and shrug it from her shoulders – she didn't need it when Quinn was keeping her more than warm.

Getting the message, and reading more into it, Quinn pulled on her ponytail tie and shook her hair out, but as the blonde came closer again the unfamiliarity of it all made Rachel bring her palms up in hesitation.

"Wait! Can we just, um . . ."

Quinn's assertiveness was hardly out-of-the-blue but it was disarming to experience in this situation. This still felt unreal, that they could do this. That it was okay to even think about doing this. That Quinn actually _wanted_ to do this and not just for health reasons anymore. It was really hard to process, especially considering the way her excited blood was thundering in her ears and racing through her heart.

"Oh! I didn't mean to . . ."

Quinn backpedalled ungracefully as she tried to retie her hair and give Rachel back some personal space. No! She'd just needed a minute to appreciate and accept the enormity of it all but in doing so she'd accidentally rejected the other girl's advances!

Rachel caught her shoulders before she could get very far. "Where are you going?"

Quinn stopped but was still tense and there remained a foot space between them. "This is . . ." she paused and then made a good effort at meeting Rachel's eyes. "You think this is too weird, right? Unconventional at best?"

"If necessary I think it's a morning sickness cure and nothing else," Rachel said, her voice coming out much calmer than how she felt inside. "And we've already discussed how it isn't wise to deprive your baby of what it needs. And in case you haven't noticed, there's not much about me that is conventional."

A beat passed before Quinn moved closer. "I thought you were changing your mind again. I wouldn't blame you. It is weird and it's always going to be weird."

"Never, Quinn, I want y. . . to be here for you." As she cringed at her slip Quinn just nodded her head, oblivious.

Rachel leant her head back against the wall, tilting it just slightly to the side and that, and the little touch she placed on Quinn's side, was enough to have the other girl taking two_ tiny _steps closer_._

She held her breath, not sure if this was going where she thought it was. Maybe she was just feeling delusional from too much anticipation and not enough sleep. Until Quinn leaned into her. Rachel tensed even harder than before, and almost immediately relaxed just as hard, like she had received a shot of muscle relaxant directly into where that was best put directly. Eyes closed, she kind of melted into Quinn; the feeling became even more intense when arms wrapped around her, hands gently resting against her back.

"You okay?" was murmured into her ear.

Was she?

"Are you cuddling me right now?" she murmured back.

It sounded so stupid a thing to ask. Quinn was going to think she was so lame.

"Yes. Or sort of. I kind of have my arms around you. I don't know if I'd call it _cuddling_. I can really stop if you want?"

Was Quinn nervous? It almost made Rachel laugh. She didn't though. Her arms had been sort of loosely surrounding Quinn's upper arms. Now she slid them up to wrap around her neck. This was a gamble, but after the past twenty-four hours the odds had to be in her favor.

"Please don't."

Quinn made absolutely no effort to break away.

The tip of a nose trailed delicately across her skin, tickling her in the most delicious way, before settling in a spot and pressing more firmly. She felt Quinn inhale and it made her knees go weak and how could something so small have such a grand effect? It defied sense.

Was it too soon to kiss her ear?

Probably. She didn't want to scare her off and they were on school grounds after all. Not that that had stopped her yesterday but then they'd been in a locked bathroom, and she hadn't done it for pleasure – which didn't mean she hadn't achieved a great amount of pleasure from it, but it was a lot more daunting to be so forward without an ulterior motive.

Then something occurred to her. "I suspect I'm probably wrong, but did you take me to the bowling alley because you wanted to, and not because you wanted a scholarship?"

There was a pause before Quinn answered. "I took you to the bowling alley to get a scholarship."

Oh well, it had just been an idea.

"Because if I didn't, Finn was going to and I didn't want you going out with Finn."

"Understandable, after all he is your boyfriend."

"No, I didn't want you going out with _Finn_!"

"Like I said . . ."

Quinn interrupted her, "Read between the lines, Berry."

She did. "Oh."

Blushing, Rachel pressed her face to Quinn's neck. It was the first time she'd done it and, "Oh, I see why you like this."

Quinn chuckled.

"Your neck is so smooth!"

"Uh, thank you."

They held each other in silence for a few minutes and Rachel sampled the same pleasure Quinn was taking from her. Quinn's neck smelled so fresh. Not that she'd expected it to be dirty or anything but _so _fresh, like a spring morning or an alpine forest or something.

As well mannered as always (well, often) Quinn returned the compliment. "Whatever you use for shower gel, I should bottle and sell it. We could make millions."

"I'm afraid somebody already beat us to it. They call it Citrus Blast and it's available from several retailers in the local area that have ethically responsible health and beauty departments."

A warm chuckle disturbed the fine hairs behind her ear, "I was trying to be funny."

"Oh. Maybe you should . . ."

The words evaporated with the first touch of lips on her skin and just like the night before Rachel felt her pulse quicken with the soft contact. Her arms tightened instinctively around Quinn's neck.

She thought her reaction had been subtle but Quinn made a low sound in the back of her throat and kissed her neck again so maybe not.

Rachel almost returned the gesture but then remembered how much Quinn liked the _other_ thing. Before she could follow through on either, Quinn's phone chirped to signal a message, causing the girl to groan against her neck, the sound sending a vibration through Rachel that made her hips pitch.

"Shouldn't you check that?" she asked when Quinn made no move to.

"Probably."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Reluctantly, Quinn pulled away and delved into her bag by their feet. Pulling her cell phone out she pulled up the message as she was standing again. She froze halfway, knees still bent and suddenly shaky if it was fair to judge by the tightened grip on her upper arm. In the unusual position of being eye to eye Rachel could see that Quinn's had grown wide as they flitted rapidly from side to side, re-reading the text.

"Shit." Quinn stared at her in helplessness and frustration as her fist clenched around her cell-phone and her distress was emphasized. "Shit!"

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading. More next week.<p> 


	36. You've Got Your Head in the Clouds

That sure was a long week, wasn't it. Felt like a month. Happy New Year, and thanks for the reviews.

**Chapter thirty-six: You've got your head in the Clouds.**

"What is it?" Rachel asked, uneasily.

How could she not assume the worst when faced with an expression of such abject fear. Quinn's fingers were even trembling as she handed over the phone for Rachel to read the text.

_WTF? Something fishy this way comes. How come you and RuPaul are both absent from gym? Were you lying to me earlier, Q? You best have a damn good reason for this._

"Why does she care so much?" Rachel asked, handing the phone back.

"She's my friend."

"That text didn't sound very friendly."

Quinn sent a text back, reading it out as she typed. "Throwing up in the nurse's office. No idea where Manhands is. Glad to see you're still obsessed with her whereabouts though."

"Okay, the first two sentences make perfect sense. Explain the last one, please."

Quinn smirked, "I'm trying to convince her she has a crush on you, because if she starts questioning her own motives she'll take a break from questioning mine."

"You honestly think that will work?" It was a little flattering, she supposed, until . . .

"Honestly? No, but it's worth a try." Quinn dropped her head back to Rachel's neck and breathed deeply through her nose.

Rachel shivered, "And is this level of subterfuge really necessary?"

"I'm standing at the back of school kissing your neck, Rachel! Yes, subterfuge is necessary! I still can't believe . . . this isn't . . ." Quinn's head raised until they were resting temple to temple. ". . . we shouldn't be doing this!"

Rachel's heart sank but she was honest. "No, probably not."

"This is so wrong." Quinn's head slid away, pulling her hair slightly but Rachel didn't care seeing as the end result was a nose back against her neck. "This is really wrong."

"Yes."

"If Santana finds out . . . what am I saying, she already knows! She just doesn't have confirmation yet. How stupid do I have to be to keep doing this when she freaking knows?"

"What does it matter what Santana knows?" Rachel asked gently. "You two are friends, right? I doubt she'd think differently of you."

"She wants my spot on the Cheerios, always has. To be head cheerleader of the top ranking squad in the nation? It doesn't just earn you kudos in this school it takes you places. Whoever holds that title has a straight scholarship to any college that has cheerleaders in America. That's like . . . probably all of them! You have no idea how many times I've thwarted her attempts to take it from me in the past few months. And this . . ." Quinn pulled back again and her eyes were burning with a serious passion. ". . . You! That's her ticket in!"

Rachel had never been a cheerleader but she understood. Her dream was a straight pass to Julliard and it was the same thing. She hated what she was about to say next but she knew she'd want Quinn to say it if their roles were reversed.

"So we shouldn't do this anymore. I'll . . . I'll wash something of yours instead, like you said, or, I'll wash everything! Just bring all your clothes to my house later and I'll wash them. That'll be just as good, right?"

"No!" Were there tears in Quinn's eyes? "That's not enough anymore. I need . . . Oh, God, why is this happening to me? I need _this_, okay? I need . . ."

Rachel drew her back in until Quinn's forehead was resting against her neck. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

"No it's not! It's not going to be okay. Oh, God, this is so wrong. I shouldn't be . . . this shouldn't be . . . I can't . . . Why are you making me feel like this?"

"I'm sorry. I'll stop, I promise, just tell me how."

She felt a distraught chuckle mingle with the hot tears on her neck. "That's the problem! I don't want you to."

"Okay."

She didn't really know what she was saying okay to but it didn't matter. She pushed a hand up into Quinn's hair, cradling the back of her head and hoping it was providing some comfort. It certainly did something because Quinn kissed her neck again and then again.

"I don't know how this happened," was mumbled against her suddenly burning skin. "I've never felt . . ."

When the sentence trailed off Rachel murmured into her ear. "Me neither. You're not alone, Quinn. I'm feeling it too."

"But what is it?"

Rachel had her theories, but not any she wanted to voice out loud.

Her silence provoked Quinn to attack and attack she did. Rachel's knees buckled so much that she was surprised she didn't fall to the ground.

"This is okay, right?" Quinn mumbled between soft, open mouth kisses up and down the side of her neck.

Rachel's answer was to give in to what she'd wanted to do for a while and pressed her parted lips to Quinn's pretty ear. Quinn froze for maybe a second, until Rachel poked her tongue out just enough to timidly tease around the lobe and . . . and _Holy Barbra! _She could feel the pattern of the bricks through her top as she was pushed firmly back by the length of Quinn's body. The kisses slowed until Quinn was basically just sucking her neck. It felt a little weird, great-weird, and ticklish. She started to giggle and then . . . _Holy Barbra _. . . Quinn's leg was pressing between hers, and her skirt was riding up uncomfortably, except actually . . . it wasn't uncomfortable at all. Quinn's bare toned thigh was the perfect fit; she'd never felt better.

She wasn't a novice at this – not that she'd ever actually done it before – but she'd read stuff and fantasized about Quinn enough in the past few weeks to get that this had gone beyond their usual 'morning sickness' relief. Even beyond last night, which had been amazing. This was something else entirely and she fought with every ounce of strength she had not to do anything foolish against Quinn's temptingly placed thigh.

She made a good job of that but failed the verbal spectacularly. "Oh, that feels so good. I ca . . . I can't believe how much you turn me on. Every time I think I've reached as good as it must get you do something that raises the already high level of wow you already cause me," she babbled, unfiltered, and uncaring about it.

"I really turn you on?" Quinn sounded honestly wowed at the straightforward admission and her hands slid to Rachel's hips, pulling her even close until the pressure against her reached levels nearly too intense.

"And we haven't even kissed!" she pointed out breathlessly. "Just imagine the possibilities!"

She felt Quinn's silent laughter against her neck and then the light scrape of perfect teeth and a whisper in her ear, "So _kiss_ me already."

"Really?"

"Seems the most logical progression, don't you think? Do it."

And _that __was_ toointense! Rachel's underwear, already strangely damp, suddenly reached emergency FEMA levels and it really wasn't her fault that Quinn's thigh was in the way of the completely innocent and totally unpreventable thing that happened next.

"_Hey!_" With the grip on her hips Quinn roughly pushed her back against the brick. "At the very least it should probably come _before_ the dry-humping, Berry!"

"Sorry, that was . . . actually it was one hundred percent your fault so I'm not going to apologize for it."

Quinn matched her smirk. "I didn't ask you to. But keep these together from now on."

A nudge against her knee sent the message loud and clear and Rachel shuffled her feet together. "Better?"

"Yeah." Quinn rearranged her own feet so that one was either side of hers and leaned against her again. "This is okay. I can actually be trusted to control myself."

"I suppose I should just be grateful that you're not insisting we put a balloon between our pelvic regions."

"I would, but it would just be a waste of money considering how fast _you'd_ probably pop it."

"And we wouldn't want to make baby Jesus cry."

Smirking, Quinn corrected her, "It's angels, sweetie. The sound of you _failing _to control yourself around me, makes the _angels _cry. And can we not talk about them, or Jesus

. . . _or_ babies, when I'm just about to let you kiss me?"

Quinn's fingertips were igniting blazing trails on her lower back, pulling her shirt tighter before smoothing in towards her spine. The pattern repeated itself over and over as Quinn leaned in teasingly, just close enough to have her demands met without doing all of the work herself.

"Why do I . . ." Rachel cleared her dry throat. "Why do I have to kiss you?" she murmured.

Quinn's lips quirked up slightly, "So I can retain plausible deniability."

A soft chuckle escaped Rachel's throat. "I know I should be offended by that, but I find I really don't care enough to be right now."

"Then do it."

"Okay."

Without looking away from the hazel eyes pulling her in, her trembling hands found either side of Quinn's jaw to hold them both steady as she leaned in those last few necessary inches.

Her phone beeped to announce a message and she cursed in way she never did when they both flinched back at the sound.

"Ignore it."

Quinn whispered it so sexily she almost complied, but Rachel didn't ignore texts. What if it was a life or death matter. She slid one hand to the back of Quinn's neck, keeping her close enough to breathe the same air as she used her other one to pull her cell from her pocket.

Her eyes went wide in shock as she read the text from Mercedes and then she wordlessly passed the phone to Quinn.

_I knew it! Girl, you're about as subtle as a car compactor when it comes to crushing. I don't know why you couldn't just tell us, maybe then we could have stopped your behind from doing something so damn foolish like KISSING QUINN FABRAY before it was too late._

Quinn's eyes went equally wide and darted around as if she might spot someone spying on them. She jerked back, putting several feet of distance between them. "How does she know? Did you say something?"

"No, of course not!"

"Then how?" Quinn shouted.

Quinn's phone beeped and she dived for it, almost dropping it in her haste. She read the message aloud, dread dripping from every word.

"It's from Puck. '_Hot as Hell Fabray. Did that really happen? You should let her and then let me watch. You owe me.'"_

After a few seconds of nervous silence, Rachel asked, "What do you owe him for?"

Quinn shrugged uncomfortably. "No idea. And hardly our biggest problem!"

Rachel's phone beeped. "It's from Artie. '_You're even crazier than I thought you were. What was it like kissing her? Or did she beat your ass down so hard you can't remember?'"_

By the time she'd finished relaying the message they were both frowning, confused.

"But we've never kissed," she stated the obvious. "Unless they mean the time after Puck's party." She thought about it. "But why would they bring it up now?"

"I don't know."

"I'm so sorry about that. If I'd known it would get out . . . actually if I'd been in any type of sober capacity I would never had done that," she amended. "I'm never drinking again! And I will never again put you in such a position as this! I've learned my lesson Quinn. I promise you, you are safe from me from now on. That will be the only time I ever try and kiss you."

"You tried to kiss me two minutes ago."

"Oh, right," Rachel said, crestfallen. "Then I suppose that will have to be the last time."

Quinn was still too upset to laugh but the corners of her lips did twitch, just a little.

"I really am sorry, Quinn."

"Don't worry about it. It might be _all your fault_, but I was the one who kissed you, remember?"

Rachel couldn't help but smile, "Ah, so you're finally admitting it!"

"Fine, yes! I kissed you! After the party, when we got back to your house, _I_ kissed _you_. I didn't want to do it but you were practically begging me, I mean I thought you were going to cry or something so I kissed you, it was nothing. It lasted like ten seconds," Quinn was rambling now. "I kissed you, you kissed me back and then it was over. It didn't mean anything, okay? It wasn't a big deal or anything and I definitely didn't tell anyone so can we just drop it?"

"You didn't want to?"

"Of course I wanted to, Berry, or else I wouldn't have done it! I just didn't want to want to and I still don't want to want to, but I do and so I'm screwed. Happy now?"

"You lied to me."

"Yes, I did. I wasn't ready to deal with it. I still thought this was something I could ignore. It was easier just to blame you."

Rachel waited for an apology but it didn't come. Taking a deep breath she moved on.

"So, if neither of us said anything there is no way anyone can possibly have that information. That means . . ."

Quinn's phone beeped again. "Shit, it's Finn."

"What does it say?"

What if Finn believed the rumor? He'd hate her. Their friendship would be over. Their working relationship in Glee Club would be ruined. The club would suffer drastically and might never recover. And they would never win Sectionals with a fractured team spirit!

Quinn paraphrased. "He wants to know why I'd make up something so weird."

Rachel heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness."

The cheerleader looked at her properly for the first time since the texts started coming through. "What about that is good?"

"It means he doesn't believe it."

Quinn bit her lip, "I guess." She nodded. "That's true. As long as Finn doesn't believe it we can just pretend we have no idea what they're talking about. Obviously Santana started this but if we both just stick to the same story then it's her word against ours. And there's two of us so we have more words."

Rachel smiled but wasn't convinced. "Do you think it will really work? Because obviously Santana isn't scared to play dirty."

"It has to work."

Rachel's phone actually rang this time and because it was still in her hand it startled her. Quinn jumped too and looked more scared than a ringing phone should make anyone.

"Who is it?"

Her heart sank when she saw the caller id. "Mike."

"Shit, don't answer it. No, you have to answer it, it'll be too suspicious otherwise, right?"

Rachel took a deep breath as she prepared to pick up the call.

"Wait!"

It whooshed back out. "What?"

"I've been a total jerk to him since the party. What if he thinks it's because I'm jealous? That won't be a point in our favor."

"Is it because you're jealous?"

"Rachel! Just answer the phone! Don't say you're with me!"

She rolled her eyes at all of the U-turns and at the redundant instruction and pressed the button to answer the call.

"Hi, Mike, what's up? Is everything okay? Aren't you supposed to be in Geography?"

Quinn came closer and bent her head next to hers so that she could hear his side of the conversation. Rachel could understand it but she wished she hadn't, it made it so much harder to concentrate on the already difficult task at hand.

"_I have a hall pass. I was . . . this is kind of embarrassing, but everyone's saying you're really into Quinn and the guys are kind of giving me some stick. So, I was just wondering, is it true?"_

This was terrible. She really didn't want to lie to him but she couldn't tell him the truth either. Quinn pulled her head back to furiously shake her head; like that was necessary.

"Of course it's not, Mike. Quinn and I share a complicated relationship . . ." Quinn looked like she was about to punch her but Rachel held her hand up, hoping the other girl would have some faith in her. ". . . but it's one based on mutual contempt and animosity. If you'll remember, it was not too long ago that she discovered my attraction to her boyfriend. An attraction that has now completely passed, I assure you, but I fear it is something that Quinn and I will never recover from."

"_So that's a no?"_

"It is laughable to assume Quinn Fabray and I could even be friends let alone anything more."

"_I figured,"_ Mike sounded relieved. _"But everyone's saying it and I keep getting these texts. I just wanted to check with you. I mean, if you did like her, I'd respect it, but . . . I'm really not enjoying this whole center of attention thing, especially if it's going to end with me looking like an idiot."_

Quinn had stepped in close again but Rachel pulled her head back to give her an anguished look. She couldn't let him look like a idiot!

Quinn moved her head to Rachel's other ear to murmur, "You have to lie to him. It's not like anyone's ever going to find out you did."

"_Rach, are you there?"_

"Of course, Mike, I was just distracted by the librarian telling me I'm not allowed to use my cell phone in here. She's gone now."

"Tell him you really don't like it when he calls you 'Rach'," Quinn's whisper warmed her ear and made her shiver; the contradictory reactions this girl provoked in her were apparently endless.

She rolled her eyes and ignored the request. "I promise you won't end up looking like an idiot, Mike. I honestly have no idea why everyone has it in their heads that I tried to kiss Quinn after Puck's party."

"_After the party? I thought it was yesterday in the girls bathroom?"_

Fudge! She felt Quinn stiffen beside her. Knowing she could have just damaged their chance at riding this out she cued up her best indignation.

"You mean there is more than one rumor? This is unacceptable! Obviously Team-Fabray is playing dirtier than I expected them to. If I wasn't a better person than they obviously are I would agree to Artie and Kurt's idea immediately. Instead we will have to rise above this vicious attack. I trust I can count on you to inform anyone who mentions it in your presence that this ridiculous lie has absolutely no factual grounding."

"_Yeah sure. I already have been. Or at least I've been saying it's a load of crap. That's close, right?"_

Rachel giggled a little and then felt a head knock into her own none-too-gently. She pulled back from the sharp contact, mouthing innocently to Quinn: _What? He's being extremely charming._

"I'm truly sorry you're having to go through this, Mike. If you wanted to discontinue our courtship, at least until this has all blown over, I would totally understand and wouldn't think any less of you."

She almost missed Mike's reply when Quinn whispered once more. "If you want charming . . ." Or maybe it was the kiss directly under her ear that stole her concentration. She didn't know whether the closeness was getting to Quinn too or if the other girl was in fact jealous but Rachel wasn't going to discourage her from expressing it either way.

Mike's answer wasn't what she wanted to hear anyway. _"No, it's okay. In fact, are we still on for this afternoon? I thought we could go and see a movie."_

"Um . . ."

"You have to." Quinn's murmur was heavy with disappointment.

Rachel's heart dropped again and she really had to stop it from doing that or it was probably going to lead to a serious heart-related ailment of some kind later in life.

The cheerleader's forehead dropped onto her shoulder for a moment, distracting Rachel yet further from giving an answer and then when Quinn started to straighten up again . . . well. If ever there was a good time to use such a vulgar expression as 'Shit happens' this was it.

"Shit!"

Quinn had not whispered, and then her hand slapped at and clamped down on the side of Rachel neck. Rachel winced at the sting and nearly dropped her phone in surprise, only just hearing Mike begin to ask,

"_Who was . . .?"_

"The Librarian has such a potty mouth; and I'm about to have my phone confiscated. I'd love to see a movie with you later, Mike. Meet me by my locker after Glee? Must go, bye!" She hung up without waiting for an answer. "What?"

"It's nothing!"

"No, what is it? Tell me, Quinn!" From Quinn's panicked expression she knew it had to be dire. "Is it a bug? Do I have a bug on me? Don't just squash it; get it off!"

"It's not a bug!"

"Then what is it?" She tried to shrug Quinn's hand off but it wouldn't be removed. "Quinn, what on Earth is wrong?"

"It's nothing, it's . . . Oh my God! I'm sorry, I so didn't mean to. I never have . . . I didn't even know I _could_. I'm so . . . shit, this is . . ."

Terrified now, Rachel clutched Quinn's wrist and pulled her hand away. Which didn't help an awful lot because try as she might she still couldn't see the side of her own neck.

"What is it?!"

"I gave you a . . ." Quinn began, horrified.

That probably would have been enough to clear up the confusion if Rachel wasn't so panicked by this point. The fact that Quinn trailed off into unintelligible mumbling really didn't help either.

Rachel squatted and quickly pulled her compact from her bag. Angling it so that she could see the problem, her eyes went so wide.

"Oh my goodness, Quinn!"

There was a bright burgundy hickey the size of a silver dollar on her neck!

"How did you only just notice that?"

"I don't know! I wasn't really looking and your hair must have been covering it and . . . oh God!" Quinn sounded close to hyperventilating. "This is so bad!"

"You think? What am I supposed to do about it? And you just forced me into going out with Mike later! What am I supposed to tell him? That I accidentally fell on a vacuum cleaner in the school library?"

"I know, okay!" Quinn yelled back. Her phone beeped again. "Oh God, not now!" She checked it anyway. "Oh for . . . what does that even mean?"

"What does what mean?"

Quinn thrust the phone at her. The text was from Santana. _Guess you really gotta choose now._

"I think it means you have to choose between me and your friendship with Santana, or possibly your position as head cheerleader."

"Oh my God, I _know_ that, Berry! I'm just . . . Crap, I am seriously freaking out right now!"

So was Rachel so she did the only thing that made sense. She rocked up onto her tip-toes and kissed Quinn Fabray right on the mouth.

It maybe only lasted just a long, lingering second and didn't make half as much sense afterwards as it had before but . . . it still worked, breaking through the percolating hysteria.

Quinn went very still for several beats of Rachel's pounding heart and then nodded a few times. "Keep your jacket on for the rest of the day and make sure to pull your hair over your shoulders. Looks hot like that anyway. If anyone asks why you have your coat on tell them it's that time of the month and it just makes you feel better to be warm. And that that's why you had a note to excuse you from Gym so you were studying in the library." She paused for breath but hadn't finished. "And if you end up making out with Mike at the movies and he goes anywhere near your neck, knee him in the nuts."

Rachel allowed a small smile. "Couldn't I just tell him I'm not ready for that kind of intimacy?"

Quinn smiled just a tiny bit too. "It's your call, but I'd be happier if you went with my idea."

"I'm not planning to make out with Mike anyway."

"Again, your call. I'll be making out with Finn later. Probably a lot . . . Damn."

"What?" (More could possibly be wrong?)

"I'll probably have to let him get _under _my bra to quell _this_ rumor."

Jealousy rose within her, a sick, tight feeling in her throat. "You'd do that?"

Quinn looked down at her tennis shoes as she muttered, "I'm not happy about it, but I think there's a lot I'd do to keep this secret. Wouldn't you?"

Rachel wanted to say how much she abhorred that sentiment, but the shy yet seductive look Quinn tipped her way at the end, changed the words in her mouth.

"So we still have a secret to keep?" she asked quietly.

"We'll have to be super careful," Quinn murmured, meeting Rachel's steady gaze through her eyelashes.

Rachel just nodded, scared to say anything in case it changed Quinn's fickle mind back the other way.

"And we can't have any 'friend' dates until this has all died down obviously."

Another slow nod.

"And clearly us meeting like this was a really stupid idea so that can't happen again."

This role of silent acceptance didn't really work for her, she _had _to say something. "So, basically, we'll have this t_hing_ but we won't spend any time together?"

Quinn nodded, "But we'll both _know_ we have this thing. And there's always Facebook chat," she chirped.

"Which will no doubt satisfy all of my desires," Rachel quipped.

"Well, considering what happens when we indulge our desires," Quinn reached out and ran a finger over her hickey. "Maybe it's better that we don't."

Rachel twitched under the contact, blushing bashfully at the truth, as the faint sound of a bell reached their ears. "It's lunch time."

"I guess."

"Wanna sit together while we eat?" Rachel grinned. "Really confuse matters?"

Quinn gave her a mock glare. "I don't even want to see you for the rest of the day, Berry."

"Well, that doesn't hurt at all."

The cheerleader rolled her eyes. "Don't be awkward. Anyway, we'll see each other in Glee."

"We're also going to see everyone else in Glee. So we're going with complete denial, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"So what were we doing in the bathroom yesterday?"

Quinn looked a little shifty, probably because she was trying to come up with a suitable lie.

"My morning sickness was really, really bad and I locked the door so no one would walk in on me throwing up. You stayed because you're not a horrible person and were concerned for my well-being. We bitched at each other the entire time and parted ways hating each other more than ever."

"I can work with that," she decided.

Quinn raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask, "Yeah. Okay. We should probably go."

"Yes. I'll give you a five minute head start and then walk around the long way."

Quinn walked the few steps to pick up her bag and pull it over her shoulder. She took a couple of steps back again. After a few long seconds of hesitation – what was she thinking now? Was she about to change her mind _again_? – Quinn leaned in and kissed her on the lips. It was perfect and innocent and over too soon and Rachel almost fell over from it.

"Might not get to do that again for a while," Quinn said by way of explanation, and then she was walking away before Rachel could respond.

Rachel touched her fingertips to her mouth, still feeling Quinn's kiss. Well, they certainly had something _now_. And then she gave into the urge to fall over.


	37. Cold To The Core

Mad gap between updates again, I know. Sorry about that. Hopefully it will help to know it's mostly because I'm so absorbed in finishing the sequel. On the last chapter now actually :) Speaking of which, we're on the home straight here too. Only six chapters left.

Thanks for the reviews :)

**Chapter thirty-seven: Cold To The Core.**

As much as she just wanted to hide, Quinn sat at her usual lunch table because the appearance of normalcy was now more important than ever.

Puck leered at her, which she ignored. Finn looked annoyed with her, even after she'd given him a kiss hello, so she ignored him too.

Brittany asked, "So what was it like?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and took a bite of her leafy, dressing-free salad.

Santana wasn't there yet, thank you God, and none of the other jocks or Cheerios at the table paid her any more attention than usual. With any luck this rumor was still confined to Glee Club.

"Quinn? _What_ was it like?" Brittany asked again. "Does she kiss like a boy or a girl or . . . I suppose if you're both at the same time you can choose which one you want to kiss like. So which was it?"

"It never happened, Britt. So I wouldn't know."

Her friend was confused. "Then why did you tell everyone that it did?"

"I didn't! I don't know who started the rumor."

Except it was clearly Santana, but maybe not calling her out on it would take some of her enjoyment away.

"But you did." Now Brittany was _really _confused. "I got your text after gym."

This didn't sound good. "What text?"

"The text _we_ received in Wood-shop," Puck said, he was still leering.

"But I didn't . . ."

"This isn't cool, Quinn," Finn suddenly erupted. "Lying about her like that. I kinda hoped that you wanted to talk about her yesterday because you were going to give her a chance. If I'd known you were just going to use what I said to hurt her some more I wouldn't have told you anything."

"You wanted to talk about Berry, huh?" Seriously, if she wasn't using so much energy to keep her own face neutral she'd be wiping that disgusting leer from Puck's. "Are you sure it was all one-sided?"

"There was nothing to be one-sided and I didn't send any of you a text. I've been hurling in the nurses office for the last hour, the last thing I was thinking about was how to start malicious rumors about Stubbles!"

"Was it stubbly?" Brittany asked.

"Yes you did!" Finn angrily thrust his phone in her face.

She took it and read the message. _OMG! I've tried to be a good Christian about this but I can't keep it to myself any longer, it's way too juicy. RuPaul tried to kiss me in the girls bathroom at lunch yesterday! Like she was literally all over me! I knew she had a massive crush on me but, guys, it was hilarious. She wanted me so bad it was like nothing was going to stop her. I only just got away! lol._

The noise in the cafeteria dulled, like there was something fuzzy in her ears and the red and white uniforms around her were suddenly too bright, too sharply in focus. She was going to be sick.

"I didn't send this."

"Of course you did," Finn snapped.

Her head shook, so did her hands and her bottom lip. "I didn't."

"But it came from your phone, Q," Brittany said.

"No it didn't." She scrolled down to the message ID anyway and there was her name and number along with the time the text had been sent.

"Give me your phone," she demanded of Brittany.

As soon as it was handed over Quinn found the same message. Her details were at the bottom of that one too. She handed it back with fumbly hands as Puck slid his across the table to her. Same message and same details.

Someone definitely not her had sent a mass text a few minutes after fourth period had started. She'd been hiding in the bathroom at the back of the girl's locker room then, waiting for the other girls to leave so she could sneak back out and meet Rachel.

She hadn't taken her bag into the bathroom with her, it would have been suspicious. She'd left it on her usual bench in front of her locker. Her locker that was next to Santana's locker. Which would have been right behind her unattended bag.

She could hear the sneering in her mind, _Payback's a bitch, Fabray!_

It was.

"I have to go. This is grossing out my baby."

Leaving her barely touched salad on the table, she stood and walked away. Before she was out of earshot she heard Brittany complain:

"She _still_ didn't tell me what it was like to kiss Rachel Manhands!"

* * *

><p>Rachel ate alone, as was customary, in a far corner of the cafeteria. Although it would have felt even more like she was leading him on (like a blind idiot) she'd kind of hoped Mike would come and sit with her, but she knew he secretly went to Chess Club on Wednesday lunch times because she'd seen him the few times she'd attended.<p>

She was halfway through her three bean salad – which only seemed to contain one kind of bean – when the rest of Team-Berry descended on her.

She covered her groan with a mouthful of red cabbage and then said to their eager faces, "It never happened!"

"Yeah, right," Mercedes started them off.

"It d-d-doesn't really come as a surprise, R-Rachel."

"If anything I'm just mildly put out that you chose to hide this from me when you of all people are always so insistent about me _embracing my_ _pride._ Can you say 'Hypocritical'?"

"I'm not hiding _anything _from you because _nothing_ happened between Quinn and I." He had a point though and she didn't want to be a hypocrite, she deplored hypocrites. "But, okay, yes, there's a possibility I may be bisexual but that has _nothing _to do with Quinn."

The blunt personal revelation made the other four sit back and appraise her for a moment but this was a meeting of the bottom rung of Glee kids so the moment didn't last long.

"So you weren't all over Quinn in the bathroom yesterday?" Artie sounded disappointed.

"No!"

"And you didn't try and kiss her or anything?" Mercedes checked.

"No!"

It was true; _she _hadn't been all over Quinn in the bathroom yesterday and _she _hadn't tried to kiss Quinn yesterday – at least not in the bathroom.

"This is all just another attack by Team-Fabray. I'm pretty sure Santana is behind it. Now if we . . ."

Tina shook her head. "Quinn sent the t-t-text."

"What? No, that's not possible. Why would she willingly put herself in a position that's open to such speculation?" Rachel asked (mostly herself).

"It's true. Here look." Artie handed her his cellular phone.

"We all received the same text," Kurt said.

The top of the text read: **From Quinn F. **and it was followed by lies.

_OMG! I've tried to be a good Christian about this but I can't keep this to myself any longer, it's way too juicy. RuPaul tried to kiss me in the girls bathroom at lunch yesterday! Like she was literally all over me! I knew she had a massive crush on me but, guys, it was hilarious. She wanted me so bad it was like nothing was going to stop her. I only just got away! lol._

She couldn't very well insist that Quinn hadn't sent it now, because they'd want to know how she was so sure. Besides a quick check of the time-stamp proved that Quinn _could _have sent it. It had been received in that ten minute window that Rachel was waiting alone behind the workshop.

Why would she do that, though. It made no sense. Quinn had been even more freaked out about it all than she had, and Quinn had nothing to gain by alluding to something between them . . . but everything to lose.

Quinn hadn't sent this, Rachel was sure of it (ninety-five percent sure at least) but she had no choice but to appear outraged.

"I can't believe she'd stoop so low as to make something like this up!"

"Why not?" Artie asked with a shrug.

"It is k-k-kinda true to form."

"But why this?"

"Rachel, think?" Kurt said. "Is there any reason why Quinn might think you have a crush on her?"

"Are you asking because you have a valid hypothesis or because you're trying to find out if I have a crush on her?"

"Honestly? Both."

"Then the answer is no, I can't think of any reason why Quinn might think that because I don't. Now what was your point?"

"Okay, it was just the second one."

"Look whether it's true or not, she's still turned this really personal," Mercedes began, "And the way I see it, the only way to fight fire is with fire."

Rachel knew exactly what she was suggesting but she actually believed a complete U-turn in attitudes would be more beneficial for them. If they stopped attacking Team-Fabray and instead showed them nothing but kindness it would completely disarm them and allow Team-Berry to take back the upper hand. It would also hopefully go a long way in settling the dispute once and for all. She'd have to brainstorm it with Quinn on Facebook later but for now she could just set the ball rolling.

"Actually, the best way to fight fire is with water, Mercedes . . ."

"Powder too, sometimes," Artie put in.

"I once smothered a g-grease fire with a d-d-damp cloth."

"Exactly!" Although Rachel felt her point had been lost a little along the way. "The best way to beat Quinn is to either smother or douse her."

"What with?" Mercedes grinned playfully. "Your kisses?"

"It would certainly have the effect of a cold shower on me," Kurt cut his eyes to the side with a horrified shake of his head, but almost immediately gave her a small smile.

Was this it? Were they actually thawing to her? Willingly sitting with her at lunch? Check. Showing an interest in her life? Check. Friendly banter? Check.

This was such a ground-breaking event that she decided not to taint the moment by admonishing Mercedes and got straight back to business.

"Yes, exactly. We should do something like that."

"Seriously," Mercedes frowned. "I was joking."

"It's the only way to combat such an attack," she insisted, although she had to admit that it was more compelling to think up ways to smother Santana with something heavier than kindness. "They won't know what hit them."

"I think we're back to fighting fire with fire," Artie said uncertainly.

"Nonsense. From now on, if they say or do something mean to us, we'll just turn around with open arms."

"Whatever." Mercedes was still looking wary, but that was understandable. It would be hard to turn the other cheek but it was the right way to go.

"Anyway, Artie, Mercedes, are you ready? We have somewhere to be."

They were going? Oh well, they'd sat with her for half of lunch and that was half a lunch more than usual.

She turned to engage Tina in conversation, but the Goth girl was already standing quickly to leave with the others.

Oh. She gave them all a bright smile anyway. "Goodbye. See you in Glee."

"Aren't you going to wish us luck?" Artie asked as Tina took the handles of his chair.

Why would she do that? but she didn't want to be rude. "Oh, of course. Good luck."

As they left she saw Tina lean slightly over the back of Artie's wheelchair and just caught the whispered, "We d-d-don't all have to kiss Quinn, d-do we?"

Despite leaning towards them, she missed Artie's reply and could only frown.

What the heck? Tina had better not kiss Quinn!

* * *

><p>Quinn did actually spend the rest of the lunch period in the bathroom and she had no idea how three bites of salad could produce so much . . . well, you know. She knew it was unlikely and also stupid, because it was . . . <em>stupid<em>, but she really wished Rachel had come to find her.

Whether it was psychological or physical it was still fact that Rachel made her feel better when she was sick to her stomach. It was a bizarre contrast to just over a month ago when it was being _near _Rachel that made her feel that way.

A lot had happened in the last month. She no longer felt like she was in love with her boyfriend. Her baby now had fingers and thumbs. And she'd kissed Rachel Berry, like three times. Yeah, a lot had happened.

But now wasn't the time to be thinking about that, because now after two classes she'd barely been coherent in, she had to go to Glee club.

She waited for a few minutes by her locker for Finn. They always walked in together, but he didn't show up. She tried not to be hurt, because although she hadn't done the thing he was so angry about she still didn't really have the right.

She hung around long enough to see Rachel visit her locker and was struck by the idiotic notion to join her and see if _she_ wanted to walk to Glee with her instead. The other girl didn't even acknowledge her as she slowly approached. Insane ideas about insisting on her attention plagued Quinn, only to dissolve before any harm was done when Kurt and Tina arrived.

Something angry clenched inside her when Rachel cheerfully engaged with them. They weren't even her friends but Rachel got to talk with them and laugh with them like it was nothing!

She heard Kurt mutter, "Go on, now's your chance."

And Rachel's, "What?"

Tina said, "D-dare you!" and then laughed.

And again Rachel said, "What?"

Quinn stalked past, not sparing any of them a glance even though they were about to head the same way.

Stepping into the Choir room she set eyes on Santana for the first time since the mass text had been sent. She denied her face the right to scowl as she walked up and took the seat immediately to her _friend's_ left.

She looked up, smirking, "Hey, Q."

"Hi."

"Having a good day?"

"Sure," she said through gritted teeth. "You?"

"Oh, I'm having the best ever. That text you sent earlier _really_ cheered me up."

"Uh huh."

"That's all you've got to say about it?"

"What else is there to say? I told you to spread a rumor, you spread one."

Santana sat forward in her chair so she could catch her eye. "Seriously, that's it?"

"I'd have preferred a little heads up. I made a fool of myself at lunch denying it. But whatever, the end result is what matters."

"Ummm, okay." Santana sat back, thrown by her reaction and Quinn smiled.

It dropped the moment Rachel walked in flanked by her 'friends'. She didn't let her eyes follow but she was aware of Rachel heading up to take a seat at the back. That was clever. If Rachel had taken her usual seat they'd be nearly side by side and how awkward would _that _be.

"Okay, then," Mr. Schuester suddenly clapped his hands together. "Let's get started. Who wants to go first?"

"Hang on, Mr Schue." Quinn tensed when Santana spoke up. "Before we continue I think there are a few issues that need addressing."

The teacher hesitated, "Like what?"

"Like, surely you've noticed it?" Santana strolled over to join him. "There's a rift in this club, a serious one, and until we fix it we have no hope of winning any competitions. And that's something I think we all really want to do, am I right?"

There was a general air of agreement and Santana nodded, so full of it. "So we need to get this stuff out in the open."

See, this was why it was sensible to be scared of Santana. That girl was way more like Coach Sylvester than Quinn was. She knew exactly how and when to go in for the kill and she never hesitated. Quinn could be mean and calculating and ruthless when needed but she just didn't have the same passion for trouble for trouble's sake as her so-called friend.

"What are you talking about, Santana?" Mr. Schuester wasn't happy about being interrupted for so long.

"The giant elephant in the room! Why do you think Berry's sat all up there like she's something special while Quinn's sitting here with her knee's knocking together and her head down?"

"I don't know."

"Santana, please?" Quinn muttered, and she knew the girl heard her because her innocent smile grew wider.

"Then I guess I need to spell it out for you: Rachel Berry tried it on with our girl Quinn yesterday, Mr. Schue, and no, we're not talking how you'd think with daisy posies and batting eye lashes and _way _too many words to actually be a turn on. Nope, we're talking the hands-everywhere and practically trying to mount her in the girls bathroom kind and _something_ needs to be done about it."

"That is not true!" Rachel's shout from behind coincided with her chair hitting the back wall. "I did no such thing!"

"But Quinn told us," Brittany said and she _sounded _sincere, but that didn't mean she was.

"Personally, I think she should be made to leave the club," Santana continued, "maybe even expelled from school, but I'll take whatever punishment you see fit, Mr Schue."

She could hear Rachel's frantic breathing – because everyone else was so damn quiet and attentive all of a sudden.

Mr. Schuester took a moment or two to look around at each of them and she didn't know what was on everyone else's faces but Quinn knew her expression had to be one of horror and she also knew he was going to take it the wrong way.

"Is this true, Quinn?"

She couldn't say no and she couldn't say yes. Her voice faltered several times as she spoke. "I-I think I'd rather not, you know, talk about it."

That had been the wrong thing to say!

"Maybe we should go to my office," Mr Schue began.

"I knew it was true!" Puck crowed.

"Quinn . . .?" That was Rachel.

"I can't believe you lied to us about it," Kurt's chair scraped away from Rachel.

Mike sounded like a kicked puppy, "So it is true?"

"I have so many awesome visuals going through my head right now," That was Puck again.

"Explains a lot," she heard Matt mutter to Mike.

"Shut up!" Mike snapped back.

Soaking up everyone else's comments, Finn said, "You didn't Rach, did you? I mean you wouldn't do that, would you?"

"No! Quinn, this has gone beyond a joke! Come clean at once or I will!"

Quinn knew it wasn't even a threat, Rachel was just desperate to end this, just like she was. The fact that their mutual desperation was about to lead them down different paths was pretty much just inevitable given that they were _them_.

"Come clean about what, Berry?" Santana asked, loving the mayhem she had caused.

"Why are you such a bitch, Santana!"

Ooh, bad move! Although Quinn was surprised the words hadn't come from her own mouth. She couldn't find it in her to move but luckily Brittany grabbed Santana before she could jump the first two rows of chairs – an easy feat for a Cheerio – and tear Rachel down to the ground.

Santana struggled violently and yelled for Berry's blood and it was suddenly like all of hell breaking loose with everyone standing and shouting as the weeks of frustration and in-fighting found an outlet.

"You guys need to step off," Mercedes snapped, "Its one thing to be assholes, but you took it too far this time!"

"We didn't start this," Matt snapped back. "You did when you took _her_ side. I thought you liked me!"

"And I thought you liked me until you started throwing slushies in my friend's faces."

Meanwhile Artie was trying to reach Puck, who was making disgusting remarks about how he didn't mind Berry working her way through the female Gleek's at all.

"Let me at him!"

Tina was hanging onto his wheelchair handles. "No, he'll cream you! And I never _did that_ with Rachel anyway!"

It was funny how she never stuttered when she was concentrating on something else.

"Thank Goodness someone finally has a leash on Santana. It's just a pity they don't have a muzzle too."

"You're next, Elton!" Santana yelled. "Soon as Stubbles is pulp I'm coming after you!"

"Don't say that stuff about her!" Finn pushed Puck.

"Yeah!" Mike joined in, before doing a double take and pushing Finn. "Back off, she's _my _girlfriend!"

Quinn had to leap out of her chair before she was mowed down by someone and somehow found herself side by side with Rachel in the maelstrom.

"You're his _girlfriend_ now?" she muttered.

"Quinn, please focus enough to help me put an end to this?"

"How?"

Mr. Schuester suddenly let out a piercing whistle right behind them, which stopped all of the shouting but inadvertently drew everyone's attention to them standing together.

"So let's just cut the chase here," Puck began. "Is it true or not?"

"Is what true?" Rachel asked.

"Did you two do the nasty in the bathroom yesterday?"

"No!" they both shouted.

"But you were all over her right?" Santana asked sweetly. "I mean, why else would you have been in a _locked _bathroom together for so long?"

"No."

"Well, the only other explanation is that Quinn was all over you. That's not true is it, Quinn?"

"Of course it isn't!"

"Well, something is going on here," Santana said.

"I gotta agree," Puck said, just for the fun of it.

"Yeah." Artie looked thoughtful. "And you did say you wanted to smother her with kisses earlier."

"What?" Quinn didn't know who to direct her anger towards. Team-Berry who didn't know how to stand by their captain or Rachel for saying such a thing.

"I did not!"

Artie looked guilty. "Maybe I mis-heard."

"No we all heard it," Kurt said.

"Did you actually say you wanted to kiss me?" There was an edge to her voice now.

"No! My . . . my comment is being relayed out of context and they all know that I didn't mean it in a literal sense!"

"But you said it?" she demanded.

Rachel looked at her, begging for leniency, but with everyone scrutinizing her puppy dog eyes and Quinn's reaction, she couldn't go easy on her. She didn't even want to right now; she was too angry at being put in this position.

"I may have made some comment about returning your cruelty with kindness but I never literally said I was going to smother you with kisses! Mercedes!"

"Sounded pretty literal to me! And what do we really have to go on? All I know is that you've been lying to us about Quinn for weeks. Why should we believe you this time?"

Rachel's face fell. "I thought we were friends?"

"That's because you're stupid!" Quinn snapped, because she'd _warned_ her about trusting them and now look where they were.

"And your friends are so great," Rachel snapped right back. "It's _your _friend that is spreading lies about me."

"Yeah, except they're not lies," Santana defended herself, straight-faced. "Seriously, I agree that Quinn's half to blame. If it was my spanks you wanted to get into I wouldn't let you within half a mile of me. She should have known nothing good would come from using your little crush to her own advantage. I told her this morning it was only a matter of time before you tried forcing your way between her legs. Guess I was too late."

Quinn's stomach dropped for so many reasons.

"What? I don't understand. Why would . . .?"

When those hurt brown eyes bored into her own it was all Quinn could do to keep her head up and her face dispassionate.

"You were just using me . . . _again_?"

How could she think that? More importantly, how could she be so _stupid _as to ask now. Her question had been blurted, accidentally, and was asked to Quinn alone, but they _weren't _alone.

The situation suddenly hit her too hard. Rachel had just backed her into a corner and _everyone _was waiting for her response and when it came it was passive but so obviously derisive.

"What do you think?"

If Rachel had just taken a second to read between the lines, to realize that she'd left Quinn no choice, but her anger was returning, hotter than before.

"This is outrageous! I just wanted to try and be Quinn's friend, because goodness knows the friends she already has are horrible, and I thought it was something we were becoming. Clearly I was mistaken and I now understand Quinn has the friends she has because they are all she deserves!"

"Watch your mouth, Manhands! Don't think you know me at all."

"I do know you! Better than anyone here, in fact. Even better than your _boyfriend_!"

"Whu . . . I . . ." Quinn spluttered, because _hello? _Was Rachel _trying _to get her publicly hanged? It was her own fault for giving enough rope, but she'd really thought Rachel was different, someone she could trust. But now that she knew different: "You're delusional! You think me letting you hold my hair back a couple of times while I barf gives you any kind of insight into me or my life?"

"I think you crying in my arms gives me a little insight into you!"

"Oh, my God, you really are crazy," she scoffed, rolling her eyes as if nobody should believe anything that was coming out of Rachel's mouth. Cutting her eyes to the group she made sure to catch Mercedes', because she obviously already believed the girl was a born liar. "That never happened, by the way. She walked in on me crying in the bathroom one day and wouldn't get the hell out when I told her too but that's as far as it went."

"And how far did it go yesterday?" Puck leered.

"Would you really like to know how far it went?" Rachel began, and her fury was starting to scare Quinn.

Angry people lost control and forgot what it was that they were _weren't _supposed to say.

So she spoke over her. "You know exactly how far it went. You all got my text, didn't you?"

"You did send that?" Rachel looked like she was about to cry with a mix of pain and rage.

"What, Berry? Did you think one of your garden gnome friends snuck into my bag and sent it instead?"

She waited for the lightening bolt to strike her down, when it didn't she caught Santana's satisfied smirk.

"For anyone who doesn't remember," the bitch began, seeming to pull her cell phone from nowhere. "OMG! I've tried to be a good Christian about this – seriously Q? – but I can't keep this to myself any longer, it's way too juicy. RuPaul tried to kiss me in the girls bathroom at lunch yesterday! Like she was literally all over me!" Santana didn't even wait for anyone to digest it before cocking her eyebrow at Rachel. "Are you denying that happened?"

"Yes!"

"So you're calling Quinn a liar?"

"Yes!"

"And you expect us to believe you?" Kurt asked in a horribly smug way that made Quinn want to punch him even though he was backing her up.

"Of course I expect you to believe me? Why would I _ever _want to kiss _her?_"

"Duh, because you have a big-ass crush on her!" Santana said. "It's been obvious forever! Besides, Quinn told me this morning how you've been hanging around her for weeks like a love-sick mutt."

"Why would you say that?"

All Quinn did was shrug but it spoke volumes, especially to Rachel.

Rachel actually stamped her foot hard into the floor. "I did not throw myself at Quinn yesterday!"

"Yeah right," Puck laughed.

"The evidence is kind of stacking against you," Artie agreed.

"I didn't!" The shrill note of Rachel's voice made it clear she was near the edge. Her next words proved she'd just fallen off of it and was determined to take Quinn to rock-bottom with her. "Quinn was all over _me_ yesterday! I tried to escape but she locked the bathroom door and then tried to kiss me!"

Quinn's head filled with a buzzing white noise but she just about managed to scoff and form the words. "Like _anyone_ would believe that."

"Which one of us has a master key that can lock all of the bathrooms, Quinn?" Rachel didn't even look sorry.

Had she looked sorry when she'd thrown Rachel to these wolves a minute ago? Probably not. Did she look sorry even now?

"Okay, fine, if you want me tell everyone _exactly _what you did." She turned back to the group and took a breath to steel herself. "I locked the door because I was about to throw up. Yes I'm pregnant and yes morning sickness _really_ sucks! Okay? I was on my knees in a stall when Stubbles jumped me. Clearly the taste of vomit turns her on because her tongue was in my mouth before I could stop gagging enough to shove her off of me. That's it, the end."

A stunned silence followed, broken a minute later by Mike pushing chairs aside as he left his seat at the top of risers.

"I don't know who to believe anymore, but I've heard enough to know its not worth it."

"Mike, it's not what you think," Rachel tried, and Quinn wanted to throw up at the way she was looking at him, so guilty and unhappy and wounded all at once.

She reached beseechingly for his arm but he pulled it out of reach as he whirled to face her. "Forget it. Everyone warned me; you're not to blame that I didn't listen."

With that, he pushed through the door and disappeared into the halls.

Finn was next. "I can't believe you'd do that to me, Rachel! I thought we were friends. How could you try it on with my girlfriend like that, behind my back and everything?"

Quinn had never wanted him to stand up for her less. Not that he was really standing up _for _her. He seemed more upset that Rachel had betrayed him than that she had allegedly been _molested._

"Finn, I . . ."

There were tears in Rachel's eyes and Quinn knew there was no way she was going to deny it now because even though what he thought had happened hadn't, she _had_ kissed his girlfriend and she wouldn't lie to her _best friend._ Quinn was home-free and it felt terrible.

"I'm so sorry," was all Rachel could finish with. "But it's really not what you think . . ."

"I think it's time we stop worrying about what Rachel thinks," Santana began. "And start talking about consequences. Mr Schue, you can't let her make Quinn a victim like this. You have to do something."

To anyone with half a brain, so only Quinn and Rachel at this juncture, it was clear that Rachel was the only victim here, but Quinn didn't say that. How could she now? Mr. Schuester came out of his stunned trance and nodded.

"Yeah . . . Yes! This is obviously a situation." Obviously. It was also obvious he had no clue what to do about it. "I think perhaps, Rachel, it would be best if . . ."

"You believe them too! You're a teacher! Can't you see psychological bullying when it's happening right in front of you?"

"I, uh, look calm down, Rachel. Shouting isn't going to . . ."

"Fine! Just fine! If you all want to believe Quinn's lies, go ahead. Goodness knows no one ever listens to my side of the story anyway, but you can't kick me out of Glee. You know you're nothing without me, that's why _Quinn _took me on a _date_ to convince me to come back the last time I left. And yes, you all heard that correctly. So hate me all you want, but I'm staying."

To prove her point Rachel sank down in one of the chairs in front and resolutely crossed her arms.

"Feel free to quit the club if you don't feel _safe_ around me, Quinn, you'll be much more easily replacedafter all, but you're not running me out."

Quinn bristled at the insult and, what the hell, she didn't want to spend one more second around Rachel anyway.

"Yeah, okay. I don't feel safe knowing that you're bug eyes are on my ass all the time so I do quit. Good luck being allowed to perform at Sectionals with only eleven members."

"Now I know what it feels like to _hate_ you, Quinn!"

She knew the girl wasn't acting, but she was as she shot back,

"Feeling's mutual, Treasure Trail, and stay the _hell_ away from me in the future or I'll get a freaking restraining order out on you. Are we clear?"

"Oh, we're crystal clear."

"Good!"

She stormed from the room without a backwards glance, shoving through the door in the manner as Mike. She figured their moods had a lot in common right now; thanks to Rachel-freaking-Berry.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading.<p> 


	38. Just 'cause I said it

Hi there, first off thank you for all of the reviews for the last chapter. There were some really strong, mixed reactions to it and its always great to know not just that people are reading but how they're feeling about it too. I'm really sorry I haven't had a chance to reply to all of them this time, time just got the better of me. Second off, I don't usually do trigger warnings but I did mean to put one at the top of the previous chapter. I'm surprised but grateful that nobody burned me for that :) And to cover myself in future . . . Warning: Sometimes people are crap and treat you terribly to make themselves feel better (or just because they've got nothing better to do and a faulty conscience) , but don't worry, what goes around comes around ;) and today is all about learning how not to repeat yesterdays mistakes tomorrow.

Last couple of chapter titles have been borrowed from Adele's Rumor Has It.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter Thirty-Eight: <strong>

**Just 'Cause I Said It,**

**(Don't Mean That I Meant It).**

Rachel was aware that every eye in the room was on her right now but she didn't acknowledge any of them. Her heart was breaking and they didn't know or care so they could kiss her behind.

Despite her best intentions she caught Mr.. Schuester's eye as he moved towards her and he managed to look both sympathetic and condemning.

"Rachel, maybe you should take a minute in my office."

"I'm fine right here," she said through gritted teeth. "Please just continue the lesson."

"I think the lesson should be about how you don't force your tongue down someone's . . ."

"Santana, that's enough!" Mr. Schuester snapped. "Rachel, I'm not asking, wait in my office."

She huffed but did as she told. As she went through the door she heard him say,

"The rest of you take your seats and stay in them until I get back. Anyone who doesn't _will _be out of the club and I'm not kidding about that."

The door closed behind her, cutting off any remarks her fellow Glee-clubber's might have made to his threat. She didn't want to hear them anyway. She sank into the chair opposite his desk and put her head in her hands.

How had everything gone from so right just a few hours ago to . . . _this_? She'd really thought Quinn liked her! She'd seemed so sincere and they'd gotten on so well last night and this morning. Had it really been a lie? Had Quinn really just been using her again?

Her turning up last night had been out of the blue, and Quinn _had_ ended up sniffing her t-shirt. And again this morning Quinn had had her face buried in her neck pretty quickly. But it was more than that, surely? They'd talked and danced and today they'd even kissed, a little. Had Quinn really only done all of that because she wanted to keep stringing her along for her fabric softener? It felt inconceivable. And yet likely. Because in what known universe would Quinn Fabray have genuine feelings for Rachel Berry?

Of course it was true.

Unable to help herself, she started crying into her hands.

* * *

><p>"Quinn, wait a minute!"<p>

She groaned when she heard Mr.. Schuester call to her. She just wanted to get away and pretend none of that had happened! Why did he have to go and follow her? She experienced a split-second of anxiety about Rachel being left alone in the room with everyone else, but she shook it off. She was feeling guilty but she was also still angry, and sympathy for Berry – who if she'd just kept her freaking mouth shut could have avoided all of this – was hard to find right now.

She turned where the corridors met in a wide crossroad, tennis shoes squeaking against the linoleum and her right hand landing defensively on her hip. "What?"

He'd run after her and took a second to smooth down his tie as he steadily looked her in the eye. "I know you just want to go home right now, Quinn, but I think it might be a good idea if I schedule you an appointment with Miss Pillsbury. How does tomorrow sound? I think what happened with Rachel is something you need to talk about . . . with a professional."

"I'm not interested in talking about it."

"Clearly it is something you need to talk about or else you wouldn't have sent that text to your friends."

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't send that text, Mr.. Schue. Santana did. She stole my phone because she was mad at me for lying to her about something and . . . she's just messing with Rachel because that's what we do."

"Well, it was thoughtless of her to spread it around like that, but she did right by bringing it to my attention. I'll have a word with Rachel, make sure she's knows to respect your personal boundaries . . ."

Quinn's bitter laughter cut him off.

"Rachel's, like, three feet tall! Do you really think she could get close enough to kiss me if I didn't _want _her to kiss me?"

Her message carried through, she could tell by the flicker of judgement widening his deep-set blue eyes. "Oh. I see."

"You do?" She gave that same sour laugh again. "I'm glad one of us does."

"Maybe you should have a talk with Miss Pillsbury anyway."

"No thank you. I'm never going to have to worry about Rachel being in my personal space again after _that_. So problem solved, right?"

She cast a glance over his shoulder towards the choir room, all she wanted was for Rachel to come after her too and yell really loudly so that they could get past this, but the hallways stayed Berry-free. She wiped a tear from her cheek with the base of her thumb.

"Quinn . . ."

Helplessly, she shook her head, having no idea how to articulate her mixed-up feelings to the teacher. "I don't want to quit Glee club, but . . .." She turned to go but stopped after a few steps and looked back at him. "Everyone in that room always seems to be out for Rachel's blood, and I don't _know_ how to be the one person who's not."

"Rachel's strong, Quinn. She'll be okay until you figure it out."

"And what if I never do." He didn't have an answer for that. She took a breath and asked something she was dreading the answer to. "You won't tell Finn? I know he's like your prodigy or something."

"I won't say a word," he promised immediately. "Although, given your situation, maybe you should, when you're ready."

"I don't think I'll ever be ready."

She had nothing else to add and there was nothing else she wanted to hear. With a nod, she turned and walked away.

* * *

><p>Will walked back into the Choir Room to find everyone still in their seats – as instructed – but gossiping wildly about everything that had happened, and had allegedly happened.<p>

He was still reeling from it himself. Still horrified by the idea that Rachel was capable of forcing herself on Quinn, because despite what Rachel believed he truly did respect her, for her talent and her determination to succeed. Maybe if he'd had a little more of the latter he would be a performer now instead of someone teaching other people how to perform.

Not that he didn't love being a teacher . . . except right now. Right now he'd rather be doing _anything_ else.

It made him immensely pleased to hear Quinn's realside of the story – it was a lot easier on him – but his heart went out to the two girls who were obviously struggling with something bigger than either of them could cope with.

"Okay, guys, enough talking." He clapped his hands to make sure he had their attention. "Let's leave this week's assignment for today and run through _'It takes two' _again. We still need to perfect a lot of the choreography."

"B-b-but Mr. Schue, we can't d-do that without Q-Quinn and R-Rachel."

"Of course we can, Tina. Kurt can take Rachel's part for now and Artie can take Quinn's."

Kurt clapped excitedly while Santana looked dubious.

"You expect us to spin around on _that_?"

"Hey, these wheels were made for spinning, baby!" Artie did a spin in his chair to prove it.

"Call me 'baby' again and I'll put you in a spin."

"Just make it work, guys. I'll be back in a minute."

Inside his office Rachel stood up as soon as she heard the door and turned to face him. Her eyes were red from crying.

"Mr. Schuester, I know you don't think all that highly of me but you have to believe that I am being falsely accused!"

"Just take a seat, Rachel."

She didn't. "You can't kick me out of Glee! Even if I had made improper overtures to Quinn – which I did not! – you can't hold that against me. I'm a teenager! We misunderstand signals all the time. Noah makes inappropriate advances on girls every single hour of the day and nobody reprimands him!"

"Rachel, it's okay. Please calm down. I just spoke to Quinn."

"You can't believe a word that comes out of that girl's mouth, Mr. Schuester! She's been out to get me since the day we met."

"She told me the truth."

"I highly doubt that."

"I promise you, she did." At least he couldn't imagine that what she'd told him was a lie. "She feels bad about what just happened."

"I hope she does."

"She implied that what happened in the bathroom yesterday didn't happen the way it was explained."

"Oh." Rachel exhaled harshly and sat down. "And?"

"Like I said, she feels bad."

"Good."

"Maybe you should talk to her about it."

"I have nothing to say to her. She humiliated me, I hope she feels bad about it for a long time."

"Is that really how you feel?"

"Yes!"

He didn't believe her, but didn't push it. "Okay. Well, Rachel, this isn't a punishment by any means, but I think you should go home now. The session has been disrupted enough and I don't think you should have to go through any more today."

"I will not be run out!"

"I'm not running you out. I expect you back here tomorrow ready to perform your assignment piece." He smiled at her. "But for now, I think you should call it a day. Let everyone, including yourself, settle down a little. You're important to this club, Rachel, but we need twelve members, that means everyone has to be comfortable here."

"Quinn's not going to come back."

He didn't tell her that he knew better. "Hopefully she will when she calms down. If not, we still have six weeks to find another twelfth member."

"And an eleventh," she reminded, head bowed. "Mike."

He didn't think the boy had left the club so much as just the room anyway. And he hadn't even been aware of any relationship between Rachel and Mike before today so they couldn't be that serious. Mind you, he hadn't been aware of any relationship between Rachel and Quinn either and look how that had blown up out of the blue.

"I'll talk to him," he promised. "And maybe you could try explaining things to him."

"I wouldn't even know where to start." She shook her head like she really meant that. "And if I did try it would probably just cause Quinn to spout more lies."

"I'm not condoning her behaviour today, but I honestly think Quinn is just very confused."

"And that makes it okay to treat me like . . . like this?"

Will shook his head but his words were neutral and textbook. "Sometimes people lash out where they're scared. It doesn't make it okay, but if you two are friends maybe you can try looking past it?"

"We're not friends, Mr. Schue. We never have been and we never will be. But thank you for trying to make me feel better." Rachel stood up, gathering her bag from the floor and pulling the strap over her shoulder. "I think I'll take your advice and go now. But I will be back tomorrow!"

He nodded, "I hope you are." She was at the door before he added, "I understand why you've been so distracted recently now. I know this must be hard for you. If you want to talk to me or Miss Pillsbury about this just know that both of our doors are always open."

"I appreciate that, Mr. Schue, but honestly I'm fine. If anything it's a relief to find out that Quinn can't change her spots sooner rather than later. I don't need that kind of negative energy in my life."

"Rachel . . ."

But she was already gone and the door closed softly behind her.

* * *

><p>Cruel and derogatory catcalls followed Rachel as she walked across the Choir Room. They mostly came from Santana, with a few sexually explicit comments from Puck and a:<p>

"Damn, Girl, you gotta turn everything into a histrionics parade, don't you," from Mercedes.

Rachel ignored them all as she walked to the door, head held high, but every single one bit deep.

* * *

><p>Quinn had walked out of the school and across the parking lot wanting nothing more than to go home and cry, and possibly eat too much low-fat peach ice cream, and then cry some more.<p>

She honestly couldn't tell how or when she had become so hung up on Rachel Berry, but it had happened! And now that Quinn had crushed her underfoot like a bug she wanted comfort food, a lot of it, and a big blanket to hide under until this feeling went away.

Even though the confrontation in Glee had felt like it lasted for hours long, school had only let out twenty minutes ago. Most students left the second the final bell rang, but the parking lot wasn't completely empty and that's why she was within ten feet of her car before she noticed something was wrong with it.

Something really wrong.

Like it had no wheels.

Crap! With everything that had happened since, she'd forgotten to move her car. Now it was up on blocks and totally tireless.

She hated Rachel Berry.

What did she do now? Finn obviously hadn't followed her when she'd stormed out and she didn't want to wait around for another hour and half until Glee club ended because then everyone would see she'd been made a fool of, again. She thought about calling her Dad, but he'd still be at work and probably wouldn't appreciate the interruption. More importantly, he'd want to know why someone had taken the wheels off in the first place and would cause a big fuss until he found out.

She didn't want her Dad finding out that she was the victim of a prank. Even more she didn't want her Dad finding out she was the victim of a prank at the hands of Rachel Berry's loser friends. Even more than that she didn't want him finding out why Berry's loser friends were pranking her in the first place.

'_It's all just foreplay, Daddy, no really.'_

Except it wasn't. It couldn't be mistaken for foreplay when she knew Rachel would never want to come near her again. It had been that, all their feuding antics the past few weeks had been enticing them to make something of it, to push the weird spark between them further. It had been so much fun when it had all been a secret, something beyond the curtain of the Glee war, something no one else would ever guess.

Except Santana had guessed and now everything was a mess. The curtain had been torn down and their secret might still have been their own but it was tarnished now beyond something either of them could enjoy.

Quinn stared at her wheel-less car and had no idea what to do about anything.

* * *

><p>Rachel called her Dad as she walked out of school's main entrance, half expecting him to say he was still at work and wouldn't be able to get there. After all, she was finishing Glee an hour and a half earlier than usual and it wasn't like her Dads planned their schedules around her so much now she was in high school.<p>

He picked up one ring before it would have gone to voicemail and she explained Glee had been cut short, but not why. Although she might tell him later. She really needed to talk to someone and she was clearly back to having no friends again.

Her Dad was just on his way out from work to get groceries before picking her up and he was happy to switch it around so she could help him shop. With a weak smile she thanked him.

She was halfway to the pick-up point when she saw Quinn. Her bright red car stood out in a sea of empty spaces. The blonde, hands on her hips, was standing beside it, frowning. Rachel planned to ignore her and keep walking but a second later she _really _noticed Quinn's car – up on blocks, without tires.

Darn! She'd forgotten about it but now she realized what Kurt had been talking about at lunch. A surge of anger flared through her at her so-called friends playing both sides, but then Quinn turned around and their eyes caught despite the distance and her anger had a new focus.

Quinn half-smiled and made a hand gesture towards her car as if to say, 'So, yeah, it happened.'

Rachel gave one curt nod.

Quinn's next gesture was much clearer, because as subtle as she'd tried to make it the 'come here' curl of her fingers was impossible to misread.

Rachel shook her head.

Quinn made the hand gesture again and raised her eyebrow for good measure.

Rachel hesitated, because that eyebrow was like the honey to her bee. Also, Quinn wanted her to go over there! How could she resist?

It wasn't easy, but she did.

Rachel walked away. She didn't even look back. Hardest thing she'd ever done in her life.

Her Dad pulled up just as she got to the kerb; which was a relief because if she'd had to wait she might have turned around.

She slipped into the passenger seat, asking, "Dad, can you change a tire?"

He glanced at her, bemused, as he put the car back into 'drive'. "They won't be hiring me at NASCAR any time soon but yes I can hold my own. Why? Do you want to learn how, Sweetpea?"

"No, at least not today. It might be useful in the future though. But right now, if it's okay with you, I'd like you to drive into the school lot, park as far away from the red car you'll see in there as you can, and then go help the owner put her tires back on."

"Okay," the car started to move forward. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Not really. Let's just say I've made several mistakes in the last few weeks and they've led to this."

"Okay." Her Dad followed her instructions to the letter. When they were parked at the far end of the lot, he asked, "So are you going to come and introduce me to you friend?"

"She's not my friend, and no. I'd also prefer it if you didn't mention my name."

Her Dad looked more perplexed than ever but nodded. He got out and looked over at the shiny, red Volkswagen he was supposed to be helping. He frowned and stuck his head back in the door.

"Uh, Rach . . .?"

"I have it on good authority that the wheels are in the alcove behind the gym." At least that's where they'd originally planned to hide them. "But I promise it wasn't me that put them there. Tell Qu—the girl, she'll know where, but don't let her lift them, okay?"

"You're not usually one for giving equal opportunities a back seat."

"She's pregnant."

Her Dad nodded a few times, digesting the information. "Okay, no heavy lifting."

As he walked away, Rachel wanted to call him back with every step he took, but as much as she hated Quinn she still couldn't stand to see her suffering.

* * *

><p>Quinn was still staring forlornly at her car. Partly because she didn't even know where her wheels were, let alone how to put them back on, and partly because of the way Rachel had just walked away from her. She knew she shouldn't expect anything more but that didn't stop it hurting.<p>

It scared her, and not for the first time, how much she felt like she needed Rachel around. And now she wouldn't be . . . oh God . . .

Great, now she was freaking out, because Rachel really _wouldn't_ be around. There was no way to come back from this. If she told Rachel she had been lying it would just prove how easily she could lie, and why would Rachel ever believe a word she said after that. If she went to Rachel's now and told her that everything she'd said was bull and that she really did like her, Rachel would just think it was another ploy to use her.

So basically, she was screwed.

Suddenly she could hear steady footsteps coming her way across the almost empty parking lot. They were too heavy to be Rachel's but who else could be out here with her? She spun around, expecting it to be Finn or Puck thinking they were funny by trying to sneak up on her, but instead a wiry, middle-aged black guy was approaching.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't," she lied.

He smiled and it reminded her of someone. "Good. So you look to be having some trouble."

"I do?"

Eyeing him warily, she was still trying to assess why he seemed familiar even though she was sure she had never seen the guy around school before. Maybe he was the new janitor. They were typically faceless until you were forced to have a conversation with one, like about missing keys or how dumpsters weren't really designed to hold human beings (apparently all the thrashing put a strain on the little metal wheels). This one wasn't Brittany's friend, that guy was Japanese, so if he was coming over to tell her off for loitering on school grounds after hours name-dropping probably wouldn't get her out of it.

"Well, you have no tires."

"Oh, right." She felt embarrassed. Was he going to report her for using the parking lot like an auto-repair shop? "They were stolen."

"A little bird told me they might be in the alcove behind the gym."

Quinn's eyes narrowed suspiciously and then it clicked into place. She probably had seen him at the school before but more recently she'd been surrounded by photos of him and his family.

Confidently she unmasked him, "You're one of Rachel's Dads."

"I'm apparently not at liberty to say. However, I am LeRoy Berry." He offered his hand.

She really wanted to run away and hide behind Puck's truck until the not-quite-a-stranger went away. He'd obviously come over to reprimand her for her treatment of Rachel that afternoon. Worse, what if Rachel had told him everything? What if he knew they'd been . . . well, whatever they'd sort of been doing. It was still undefined in her mind; a weird hybrid of a friendly physical comfort she hadn't known she was craving and her first real experiences of lust (which, you know, ditto on the craving).

She wouldn't run and so she shook hands politely "Quinn Fabray. It's nice to meet you."

They'd already released hands so it was only by the slight twitch of his eyebrows and the straightening of his shoulders that she could tell he'd tensed up at her name.

"Quinn Fabray. Uh, okay. It's nice to meet you too. Why don't we go and find your tires?"

If she was feeling more herself and not like she was walking around with black thunderheads hovering mere inches above her (and if she wasn't just a little bit intimidated that this was Rachel's Dad and although it was probably pointless now she still felt compelled to make a decent impression) she would have cared more about his reaction. She would have asked if Rachel had been telling tales about her out of school; or at the very least made a sarcastic crack about her reputation proceeding her. She didn't have the energy or the inclination to do either this afternoon and settled for giving him a sidelong glance as they walked across the parking lot.

"So, a certain someone I'm not allowed to name wasn't very forthcoming about what happened. Care to enlighten me?"

Mentioning feud-foreplay probably wasn't a good idea. "The Glee Club is kind of having a prank war. I guess it was my turn."

"And that certain someone is behind it?"

"No," she lied quickly. Not that he sounded like he was angry with his daughter, just surprised if anything. "Someone just got caught up in it."

"I see. Oh, look, here we are."

They'd walked around between the sport's field and the back of the school to the entrance next to the gym; to one side of it was a high-walled area with an unlatched gate. Quinn didn't know what it had originally been built for, maybe to house trash cans or something, but ever since she'd been at William McKinley it had only been used for storing sports crap and making out. Not that she'd ever made out with anyone in here, but she knew it was one of Santana's regular haunts – especially on game nights when apparently the background roar of a hundred booing Titans' fans gave a hook-up that extra edge.

Her tires were just inside the gate, three propped up one after the other against the wall and the fourth lying flat on its side

She squatted to deal with that one first, intending to grab and lift.

"Careful, Quinn, they're heavy," LeRoy Berry warned her.

She gave him a dubious look as he picked up one in each hand with ease. "They don't look that heavy to me."

"I'm deceptively strong."

"No offence intended, Mr. Berry, but it must be very deceptive."

He gave a laugh, a proper guffaw almost identical to Rachel's the night before when they'd been dancing like idiots and it made her smile automatically and feel like someone had just taken one of her tires and swung it full strength at her chest.

"That sounds like a challenge to me," he said as he deftly flicked the last tire onto its tread with his feet, steadying it until it was perfectly balanced. "I'll clearly have to prove you wrong, but not with a tire-lifting competition, okay."

"Then how?"

"The sport of kings of course, arm-wrestling!"

She grinned, "I should warn you then that my arms are pretty strong. I regularly lift girls bigger than me over my head."

"For fun? Well, it takes all kinds."

"I'm a cheerleader!"

"Oh, well it should be an interesting match then. For now why don't you just roll that back to the car?"

How on earth had she just agreed to arm-wrestle Rachel Berry's dad? Then what he was implying set in and she was annoyed all over again.

"Rachel told you that I'm . . ." She couldn't finish the sentence. It was still too daunting to admit the truth to an adult.

"I don't know this Rachel you're talking about it," he joked, "but, yes, I'm aware you shouldn't be lifting anything heavy."

He walked off then, back out of the alcove and towards the parking lot, carrying two of the tires and nudging the third along in front of him with his foot. After a moment she started rolling her tire with her hands and caught up with him, waiting for a lecture on the perils of neglecting the wonders of abstinence.

It never came and she was inclined to prod him for some kind of response. After all, wasn't he was supposed to be a parent? Shouldn't he be grilling her over who the father was, what was she doing about it, why was his precious pumpkin (or whatever his pet name for Rachel was and she just knew he had one because Rachel inspired pet names from everyone) hanging around such a morally bankrupt young lady? Shouldn't he be demanding her number to call her father and inform him of her situation?

They were back at her car before she could follow through on giving him any stupid ideas and, after dropping all three of his tires gently to the ground, he walked away without a word.

That was it? He'd just come over to help her _find _the tires. She stared hopelessly at her crippled car again. How was she supposed to put them back on? The only thing she knew about car maintenance was how to get someone else to fill her gas tank for her.

She wanted to follow him, to either beg for help or at least get a few tips, but she could see another figure in the passenger seat of the car he was approaching. A small, dark haired figure of a girl and just knowing _she_ was sitting there made Quinn's stomach lurch in a good way and her chest tighten in a bad way and . . . this was _insane_! And she was _not _going anywhere near that car.

LeRoy Berry went to the trunk and she watched as he simultaneously pulled something out of it and had a conversation with the car's occupant. She was too far away to hear his side of the conversation let alone the other side but she ducked her head and listened hard anyway, just in case.

The next thing she heard beyond the traffic and bird song were his footsteps coming back towards her. He was carrying a couple of tools with him and with just a grin 'hello' he went straight to work on putting her tires back in their rightful place.

"By the look of relief on your face I'd say you thought I was about to abandon you."

"I admit it crossed my mind. Rachel would probably want you to."

"She who will still not be named just yelled at me for three minutes because she thought I was too."

Quinn's shy smile crept over her before she could stop it. She ducked her head to hide, but it was too late. She'd been caught.

"I can handle this. It won't take long. Why don't you go over there and keep her company?"

"No, I don't think so." Almost as soon as that sentence was out another followed on its heels. "Did she say she wanted me to?"

"No," he admitted. "But she's upset about something. Maybe you could get her to talk about it?"

Quinn would like nothing more. "I don't think that's a good idea. Rachel and I aren't really friends."

"I know you two have a history."

Yes, and _all_ they had now was a history, thanks to Santana!

"I'm the reason she's upset."

"I figured."

"Why?"

"There are no tires on your car," he reminded her with a small grin.

She rolled her eyes with her own little grin. "Actually that happened before."

"And the plot thickens."

"I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind."

"Nope, not at all. If you're staying why don't you hand me those bolts?"

The bolts had all been left where they'd dropped and she gathered all of the ones from the near side in her hands and waited for him to need them.

It took about twenty minutes for him to get all four tires back on and tightened safely and Quinn alternated that time between helping where she could and surreptitiously watching Rachel through the rear window of his car. The other girl never once looked back, but one time she was sure she saw Rachel's shoulders hunch and shake as she dropped her head forward.

It was nearly enough to make her walk over there and rap on the window but she wouldn't be welcomed and she wasn't giving Berry the chance to tell her to get lost. Not on school grounds at least when anybody could walk past and see them. It was bad enough she was accepting help from her dad. If Santana decided to leave Glee early and saw this . . .? Santana's first thought wouldn't be that the guy saw she was in trouble and was doing his good deed for that day. And it wouldn't be that Rachel was a big enough person to help the bitch who had just humiliated her. It would be '_Oh, look, isn't that sweet? Quinn's bonding with her new father-in-law!'_

And it was a distressing enough thought on its own, but it doubled when she realized she still didn't feel _this_ at ease with Finn's mom and she'd been dating the boy six months now. Sure, she and Carol exchanged pleasantries and she'd been to a few family dinners – more than Finn had been to her at her house – but there was always that air of 'You're okay, but are you really worthy of my son?'

Quinn didn't mind it, honestly she didn't even really notice it much. Besides, she knew now that she wasn't worthy of Finn so it made sense that Carol Hudson thought that, but she also knew Finn wasn't as perfect as his mom thought he was either. He'd kissed Rachel behind her back after all. Okay, so he hadn't knocked the girl up or anything, but it was still cheating.

Did the fact that she'd kissed Rachel too cancel that out?

If everyone had believed Rachel's version of the truth instead of hers, would he have dumped her on the spot even though he thought she was carrying his baby?

Did she maybe wish that had happened?

"Okay, we're all done." LeRoy was standing up and dusting off the knees of his black suit pants.

In the time she'd been lost in thought he'd removed all of the blocks and lowered her car back down on the jack so that it was once more resting on all four wheels as God had intended.

She smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Mr. Berry. I really appreciate your help."

"You're welcome." He collected his tools and sounded hopeful as he asked, "So did you want to at least come and say goodbye."

She glanced at the car again and maybe if this time Rachel had been looking through the rear window she might have, but she wasn't.

"No."

"Okay, well, take care, Quinn."

He'd gone six steps when she blurted out, "But tell her I'll be on Facebook later." As he turned back to smile at her she shrugged lamely and added, "You know, if she's bored or something."

He nodded. "I will." He went another step or two before turning back again. "And don't think I've forgotten, you and me, a battle to determine the arm-wrestling champion of the universe!"

She smirked, "I'm looking forward to it."

And, although it was crazy, she kind of meant it.

She cast one last look past LeRoy's retreating back to the girl who was still refusing to acknowledge her.

She just had to figure out how to make it a possibility.

* * *

><p>"You two seemed awfully chummy," Rachel snapped.<p>

"Is that how you speak to someone who just did you a favor?" her Dad asked as he slipped back into the drivers' seat. His voice was sterner than she was used to.

"Sorry. Thank you."

"Accepted. She seems like a nice girl. Why don't you want to be friends with her?"

"She's a horrible girl!" Rachel's emotions were still too raw and how could her Dad take Quinn's side over hers. "And if you want to know why we're not friends it's because she thinks I'm too far beneath her to be friends with."

"You're not beneath _anyone_, Rachel. Quinn would be lucky to have you as a friend."

Well, that was a little better. "Try telling her that."

"I think she wanted to come over and sit with you, but she didn't think you'd be receptive."

"Of course she did," she scoffed, quickly followed by a meeker, "You really think so?"

Her Dad smiled, looking both ways and pulling out of the parking lot. "Yes. So is there something going on between you two your Daddy and I should know about?"

His tone was playful but Rachel sank in her seat a little, folding her arms tight across her chest. "I promise you there is really not, nor will there ever be, something _going on_ between Quinn Fabray and I."

"Okay, Sweetpea, forget I asked."

They drove the rest of the way to Walmart in silence. Rachel stayed slumped in the passenger seat. She knew she probably looked like she was sulking, but really she was just trying not to start crying again. She wasn't wasting any more tears on Quinn.

Hating her right now hadn't stopped Rachel from watching her in the rear-view mirror the entire time they'd been putting the tires back on the car. She'd seen Quinn look over several times, every few minutes really, but it hadn't softened the hurt inside. The lies she had told were bad enough, really bad, but the idea that Quinn had been using her _again_?

What was wrong with her that she kept falling for it? Did she have 'easy target' tattooed on her head, in invisible ink that only Quinn – actually _everyone_ at school – could read? She wasn't a push over, she knew she wasn't, and yet she kept falling for the blonde's false seduction.

Did she really just like Quinn so much that she was prepared to be a fool for her?

Obviously.

Well, not anymore. She couldn't imagine what the rest of the semester was going to be like from here. Nobody had liked her much before but now they all felt they had a reason to actively hate her – and it was all lies! At least for the last few weeks she'd had this thing with Quinn to make her not care so much about everyone else. Now it was all going to be horrible.

If only they could skip back time a day. Or not a whole day, she didn't want to lose last night even if it had been a lie, but just to that morning, to a time where she could still believe Quinn actually liked her_. _To a time where it had almost felt like they were falling into something deeper together.

To a time before Quinn had destroyed all hope of this thing between them being real.

"Oh, by the way," her dad spoke again as they were pulling into a parking space. "Quinn told me to tell you she'll be on Facebook later if you want to chat."

Rachel's thoughts came to a crashing halt at those words. "Really?"

* * *

><p>Quinn pushed her dinner around her plate for twenty minutes before claiming she was too tired from Cheerios practice to eat much.<p>

She hadn't had practice that afternoon but it wasn't like her parents kept a close eye on her school schedule. Her Mom did give her a concerned look as she stood and picked up her full plate, but didn't say anything. Her dad just gave her a smile and a nod as she passed his chair.

As soon as she was in her bedroom she turned on the computer, but stalled for time with a long, hot shower before logging onto Facebook.

Rachel wasn't logged on, apparently.

She checked Rachel's Myspace but there was no video.

She decided to do her homework, but spent more time checking back on Facebook and refreshing the Myspace page than actually concentrating on what she was supposed to be doing.

* * *

><p>Rachel ate about three bites of dinner and that made her feel sick. Quinn had killed her appetite completely. Why was she surprised? Was there anything she hadn't ruined?<p>

Her Daddy was about to comment on it, but she saw her Dad subtly shake his head to discourage him and as much as she hated being so transparent she was grateful.

"I know we were going to watch that documentary on Lisa Minnelli together tonight," she began as she grasped each side of her plate ready to leave the table. "But I'm not really in the mood after all."

"You're not in the mood for Lisa Minnelli?" her daddy blurted before he could help himself.

"Not tonight. Maybe we could DVR it and watch it together another night?"

She left the table without waiting for an answer and heard her dads whispering to each other in her absence. She didn't even care. She just wanted to go upstairs and _not _log on to Facebook.

The first thing she did in her room was go to the bottom drawer of her dresser. She pulled the year book from beneath everything resting on it and let it fall open to the middle page. She scowled at Quinn smiling back at her before picking up the sheets of paper within. Discarding the pro/con list to the side she concentrated on the letter Quinn had written her the night of Noah's party.

She read it several times. Although to be honest she pretty much had it memorised by this point. She balanced the contents of the letter with what she'd experienced of Quinn in the last few days.

Or _tried _to.

It just didn't add up the way she'd imagine it to. There were . . . anomalies.

Quinn had spent hardly any time _sniffing _her neck this morning, she'd been so eager to _kiss it_.

For example.

No, there was only one feasible conclusion Rachel could come to. Quinn might be confused, she might be scared, and she might be a bitch because of those two things, but she _probably _hadn't been using her.

Rachel slowly folded the letter up. So Quinn actually _liked _her . . . and had _still_ thrown her under the bus!

How could she do that?

How could any civilized human being do that?

Rachel hated her more than ever! And she logged on to Facebook to tell her just that.

Her profile page had barely loaded before a chat box popped up.

"**Hey." **Quinn must have been sitting there waiting for her.

Rachel went hot all over and froze in place, and as a result she didn't reply.

"**If you don't want to talk to me just say so."**

Rachel stared at the screen, her hands gripping tight to the edge of her desk.

"**Can you at least give me some indication that you're there?"**

It took a minute of even breathing before she could make her hands move properly to type a colon and open-parentheses to form an emoticon.

"**Okay. Are you upset or angry?"**

Shouldn't that have been obvious. **"Both. Extremely."**

The reply was quick in coming. **"Me too."**

Rachel didn't answer, provoking Quinn to add:

"**You're as much to blame as I am!** **You told those losers you wanted to kiss me! "**

Rachel's eyes went wide in disbelief. **"I did not! I said it might be worth trying to combat your team's horribleness with kindness and see if it had a better effect. Mercedes was the one who said I should kiss you, I think."**

She couldn't really remember. It had just been a casual conversation after all; or so she'd thought at the time.

"**Yeah, well you screwed everything up."**

Rachel didn't respond.

"**You shouldn't have trusted them with anything!"**

"**I thought I was talking to my friends!" **she typed angrily. **"Why is it okay for you to converse with your friends how you wish, but it isn't for me?"**

"**How stupid are you? I told you they weren't your friends."**

"**Well, I apologise for thinking I could actually have a friend or two, despite your best attempts to ostracise me from our high school peerage!"**

There was no response for a while, not even a courteous **brb** which made Rachel even angrier.

Eventually a rather weak response appeared on the screen. **"Those losers were never your friends. They were just using you to get at me and Santana and Britt."**

"**So what were *you* using me for? I'm not so sure its just my fabric softener anymore."**

"**I'm not using you, Rachel."**

Despite having come to that assumption on her own already, the situation made it impossible not to needle at Quinn with it.

"**That's not what you said earlier. You were quite happy to admit it. I'm sure you made Santana very proud."**

"**Arer yu freakign seriious" **came back while Rachel's fingers were still resting on the keys. It was the typos that crashed through her momentary smugness; Quinn must be really upset. Enough so that when the next words appeared on her monitor she was more awake to them. **"Are you sure, Berry? Is that really what I said?"**

Yes she was sure of it! Wasn't she? Quinn had definitely said something that had left her in no doubt . . . very little doubt . . . but if that was true, why was she doubting it now? Was this more of Quinn's charm at work or . . . What exactly _had _she said again?

"**I said: what do YOU think."**

Rachel stared at the screen, re-reading the words. It did sound familiar, but it was hard to see how any point Quinn was trying to make would help Rachel see her in a better light. What was her angle now?

"**Do you see your mistake?"**

No, she didn't, and she was looking _very _hard for it.

"**How would someone who actually had a little faith in me interpret that, do you think?"**

Oh. Ohhhhh. Oh boy. She saw it now, but she was still indignant. How was she supposed to . . . actually, this was something that needed to be shared: **"How was I supposed to pick up on that, Quinn. Hidden messages in speech rely on nuance and yours unkindly said the exact opposite."**

"**You left me no choice."**

"**Excuse me? I was the one being ganged up on!"**

There was definitely no doubt about that. Quinn could have avoided the worst of the unpleasantness if she'd only continued to deny what Santana had said. Instead she'd folded to peer pressure and twisted the knife deep into Rachel's dream that they might be wasn't her fault that Quinn clearly placed Santana's friendship above her own. So none of this was her fault!

"**This awful state of affairs occurred only because you prioritized Santana's expectations above your own. AND MINE. What did you even say to her this morning to make her come up with such a diabolical route of attack?"**

"**That you've been helping me with pregnancy stuff." **No, that was too innocuous to be it. Rachel didn't doubt that Santana could spin gossip gold out of straw and dust but suspected even _she'd _need more than 'helpfulness' to launch an assault so incisive. Her belief was founded when more words appeared in Quinn's pale blue speech bubble. **"She doesn't believe in altruism. She was convinced you have an ulterior motive, but I downplayed it. I said I didn't care, that it wasn't a big deal." **A few seconds later another message followed. **"And I guess she put that together with this rumor she was desperate to start and ran with it. I had to run too or it would have been knocked me down. And you? You just stood there in its oncoming path like an idiot and you wonder why everything DERAILED?" **

Rachel didn't care about most of the words on the screen. Not even that Quinn was still trying to push the blame her way or the fact that she'd employed the over-used train crash analogy to describe what was happening between them (and to them). It was apt, she supposed. This conversation did feel like she was picking through the wreckage of her recent experiences. It was something else that commanded her, that stuck to her attention even while she was reading the rest, even though it was something that hadn't been _said_, but was definitely implied.

Rachel sat back in her chair, reading that again to make sure she had a case, and then typed, **"So you told SANTANA I had a crush on you?"**

There was no response, until she added: **"And you call me stupid!"**

"**Hey, watch it!"**

"**Watch what, Quinn? The crash has happened. There's nothing else to see here."**

"**What do you want me to say, Rachel? That I'm sorry? You pushed us here. You opened your mouth first." **

Well, that was rich! **"It was all just speculation until you started LYING!"**

"**You know I can't afford that kind of speculation!"**

Oh really, _that_ was her excuse for behaving like an supercilious, self-serving _bitch_?

"**And so because you can't handle your popularity dropping a few points it is okay to make me out to look like some kind of lesbian molester?"**

The two minute silence convinced her she'd hit just the right note there, but when a reply was forthcoming it's simplicity, heck it's entire tone surprised her.

"**I'll make it up to you."**

Rachel deleted her first two replies of **'Really?'** and **'How?'** and settled on a much more realistic: **"It's too late for that."**

"**No it's not. In fact, I've been thinking and this is actually kind of perfect."**

Were they still talking about the same thing? Clueless, Rachel sent back a row of question marks.

"**It is. Don't you see? After the performance we put on today no one will ever suspect a thing."**

If this had been a verbal confrontation Quinn would have secured herself the victory by default of Rachel being ragingly speechless. Even alone in her bedroom she could only splutter out the opening words of sentences, each to be lost to the next half-formed resentful thought as the fury clawed its way up and stuck in her throat.

Her fingers still worked just fine though and there was just no way, no_ way, _that Quinn could win this argument. And she wasn't going to charm her way out of it either.

"**That was not a performance! It was the most humiliating ten minutes of my life. And really, I didn't think anything would top being cast into the boy's shower room in my teddy-bear underwear and training bra."**

"**I know it was rough but it has a good side. Rachel, we could make out in the middle of the lunch room now and just say you jumped me again ;)"**

She wasn't proud of it but she did have to pause just for a moment to imagine making out with Quinn. Not in the lunch room, just . . . anywhere.

It didn't deter her from how annoyed and upset she was. **"Did your fingers just slip inappropriately again or are you actually joking about this? This is serious, Quinn! As I was leaving the Choir room Santana said she was going to make sure Principal Figgins puts me on the school's sex offenders register!"**

"**Do we even have one of those?"**

"**I don't know, but I think if Santana has anything to do with it we will have by the morning!"**

Gone were the sometimes lengthy gaps between replies, their messages were zipping back and forth so fast now they were probably making cyber space dizzy.

"**I'll talk to her tomorrow." **If Quinn was trying to be gallant she'd left it too late.

"**And make it worse, I'm sure."**

"**From the way you're talking I shouldn't imagine it could get any worse."**

"**Yes, well we both know how much you love a challenge. I imagine one word from you in regards to me and Santana will have me dragged from the halls handcuffed to a burly police officer and charged with indecent assault."**

"**Fine, I won't talk to her."**

"**Of course you won't. God forbid you ever open your mouth to say something nice about me."**

"**fjdosiahhago;dfhsd"**

Rachel felt herself smile, well smirk really as she wondered what part of Quinn's body had sent that. Had she mashed the keys with her hands? Or was the nonsense a sign that she was frustrated enough to literally face plant the keyboard. Either way it was a small bright spot in a dismally dark evening.

"**Look, Berry, your attitude is starting to piss me off. I don't **_**have**_** to waste my time on you, you know? You're not my boyfriend. I'm giving you the chance to carry on as if today didn't happen, so just do yourself a favor and take it."**

Now it was Rachel that was two steps from repeatedly banging her forehead on her desk.

"**You know that's what you want."**

In theory! But it was impossible. Surely even Quinn could see that?

"**How can I pretend today didn't happen? Everyone hates me more than ever."**

"**I don't."**

"**Finn thinks I went behind his back and kissed you."**

"**You did, but he's no better. He kissed **_**you **_**remember?"**

That was true. She sometimes forgot about it now; that in a way her seduction of Finn in the auditorium was one of the catalysts for where she and Quinn had recently found themselves.

Yet even if Finn could find a way to balance out her misdeed with his own, it wouldn't solve everything. **"Mike is never going to want anything to do with me ever again."**

"**Good."**

"**Quinn!"**

"**What? You felt guilty about leading him on. Now you don't have to."**

But he'd been her friend too.

Quinn was reading minds now. **"You don't need friends who will so easily jump to horrible conclusions of you without even giving you the chance to explain."**

Rachel sighed, that might have been sage advice coming from anyone else. **"So it's better to only need the 'friends' who circulate the reasons for those horrible conclusions?"**

"**You backed me into a corner. I had no choice."**

"**There is always a choice, Quinn. You chose to lie about what happened between us to save your reputation." **

"**Okay, fine. Are you over it yet?"**

"**No, I'm not." **Rachel counted to ten and then gave herself a thirty second pop quiz on the topic of how she was _really _feeling inside. Only when she was sure every thought and feeling were pointing her in the same direction did she begin to type again. **"And I'm declining your offer to continue as if today never happened. It DID happen and on this occasion I don't think I'll be able to forgive you as easily as I have in the past. Moreover, I don't want to. I deserve better than someone who doesn't even feel I'm worthy of being friends with, let alone anything else."**

She released a shaky breath on hitting the enter key. Already her mind was starting to cast doubt on her decision but she still felt good. Okay, she was a long way from good but it felt good to take back some control over her destiny.

"**Whatever. You're boring me now. I don't need this crap. Good luck tomorrow, Sweetie; trust me when I say you're going to need it. Without me on your side you'll have no one."**

Quinn's reply did give her resolve a wobble, but only a little one. After all, resorting to threats because she couldn't get her own way was hardly a crush-worthy attribute.

"**With you on my side I already feel like I have no one. Every time I let my guard down around you I get hurt and now I have to worry about Santana and Brittany deliberately targeting me because of you too. AND now I know that you will help them if it means protecting yourself."**

"**We're going around in circles here."**

Rachel shrugged even though there was no one to see her.** "****That's because there is nowhere else for us to go."**

There was a long pause. Rachel dug her toes into her carpet and willed herself the strength to be proactive and claim the last word in the conversation by logging off. Instead of pitifully hoping that a reply would come.

It did come, eventually, after four minutes thirty-eight seconds of stress-related lip-chewing and finger-drumming.

"**Okay." **Rachel didn't understand why a single word answer warranted such a long delay, but then perhaps Quinn really was just bored now and had become distracted.

It wasn't a nice feeling, and so she echoed her in the hopes of being proven wrong. **"Okay?"**

"**You've made your decision and you're probably right."**

"**I am?" **She suddenly didn't want to be right. It was easier being stand-offish when Quinn was trying hard to win her back, or whatever it was she was doing. Maybe not back, just over, trying to win her over.

"**Spending time with you is social suicide, Berry, especially now, and clearly you can't keep a secret to save your life. We should go back to the way things were." **Did Quinn really mean that? Because suddenly it didn't sound like the thing Rachel wanted anymore. **"****We should just forget this ever happened. ****I'll live happily ever after with Finn and you can live happily ever after alone like you obviously want to."**

"**I never said I wanted to be alone."**

"**Too bad. Because that's what you're going to be after this. At least until high school's over. No boys are going to come near you now they think you're a lesbian, unless it's Puck looking for a threesome maybe." **A few seconds later another comment arrived. **"You know what gossip is like in school. It won't be long before everyone knows what you did."**

"**But I didn't do it!" **she typed with tears in her eyes.

"**Nobody's going to know that. Look, I'm not trying to be mean, I'm just telling you how its going to be."**

That just wasn't true! **"****You ARE being mean! That's all you can be. I don't know why I ever cared for you."**

There was a shorter pause this time, a minute and a half and Rachel just let the tears fall without catching them.

"**Whatever. I have to go now."**

"**Don't!"** The word was on the screen before she could stop herself.

"**I have to. ****I don't feel very well."**

"**Can I do anything to help?" **Again the words just seemed to write themselves, Rachel's fingers just along for the ride.

"**You can forgive me."**

"**I'm sorry, I just can't."**

The next message to appear before her blurry, wet eyes was one telling her that **Quinn Fabray **had logged out.


	39. She makes your heart melt

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I love hearing what you all have to say. For those I couldn't respond to personally I'll just say: Please don't give up on Quinn yet. She's messed up and making bad decisions all over the place, but she's not the devil (That's Santana ;))

**Chapter Thirty- nine: She Made Your Heart Melt.**

The realization that Rachel wasn't just going to give into her this time struck her hard, snatching away the last ounce of control she had left over her own life and making her feel numb and hollow inside.

So, what else could she do, but lose control.

Why not? What was the point anyway? Being _nice _to Rachel Berry had only ever caused her stress – _unnecessary _stress, might she add_ – _so honestly? Screw her! It felt good, it felt good _at first_, to type nasty, demeaning, vicious little half-truths and she stabbed out and sent the messages each time with a cruel triumph. She took pride in keeping the tone calm and dispassionate even though she was shaking so hard now her fingers skittered dangerously across the keyboard.

The pleasure in being mean didn't bring life back to the numbness in her heart and mind, but it did slowly begin to fill the hollow spaces in her head and chest. They filled with hate and anger and contempt, and then with a panicky feeling tinged with resentment and disgust. And then, finally, with such devastation and chilling shame that tears burned her eyes before streaming down her cheeks.

She knew she was being needlessly cruel but she couldn't stop herself. Rachel was right on that score, she could only be a bitch to the other girl, but she needed to be! She needed to push her away, because the alternative was begging for another chance and she just couldn't do that!

There was a moment when she thought she had Rachel on the ropes, she could feel the girl wavering through her words, but by then she felt too terrible about it all to push for advantage.

After she'd switched her computer off she cried, sobbing uncontrollably into her hands for a long time about the mess she was in and how she'd managed to make it even _worse_. She cried because Rachel had hurt her and she cried because _she _had hurt Rachel and then she cried some more because now the flood gates had opened she couldn't close them again.

She cried for so long the tears turned angry and her palms curled into fists pressed tight to her stinging eyes. What made Rachel so freaking special anyway? Seriously, what right did that loser have to turn her into such a state? Yet even as she thought that the other half of her brain was berating her because Rachel wasn't a loser, she was just . . . different, entertainingly so most of the time and simply harmlessly the rest.

Okay, so she hadn't been so harmless to creepy Mr. Ryerson and she could be a real diva if anyone dared to take a solo from her.

So perhaps she wasn't so different to everyone else after all, deep down, but that still didn't explain why Quinn was breaking down over her. She couldn't have cared less for the girl a month ago, but ever since she'd found out Rachel had a crush on her it was like a door had been opened. A door to all of these new and confusing feelings and potential experiences. She'd tried hard to slam that door closed and barricade it, building walls within her walls to defend herself from these feelings, but at some point – maybe the night before or maybe even earlier – the walls had crumbled, the door had been thrown open and left her exposed and vulnerable.

And for the first time in years, more alive and more _herself_ than ever.

She'd been prepared to walk through that door, she really had; ready to accept what was on the other side of it – and then it had been slammed in her face. How was that fair?

She felt ashamed of giving in.

She felt angry for being denied now that she had.

She felt like an idiot for thinking it could be that easy.

Mostly she felt cheated out of getting what she wanted.

And she kind of wanted to literally kill Santana for kicking the door closed.

And Rachel for refusing to open it again.

And then she wanted to kill Rachel again just for existing and making her feel this way.

Her tears were finally ebbing away when her cell phone rang. For a second she thought 'Rachel!' but then felt stupid all over again because she knew Rachel didn't have her number and why the heck would she actually want her to call anyway.

It was Finn. She blew her nose on some tissue before answering, hoping it would clear some of the tears from her voice.

"Hi."

"_Quinn, hey, are you okay? Sorry, I didn't call earlier. There was football practice right after Glee and then my Mom made chicken for dinner. So, anyway, how are you?"_

"I'm fine," she said automatically, although the remaining sniffling in her voice was probably carrying over. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"_Well, after what happened in Glee . . ." _He trailed off for a moment. _"I'm really sorry for not believing you."_

Another sob escaped her, she tried to turn it into a chuckle but probably failed. "It's okay."

"_It's not. You're my girlfriend. I should have believed you over Rachel. It's just . . . I didn't even know she was into girls, yunno, so it sounded stupid, but . . . I'm just really sorry."_

She wanted to tell him the truth, for _Rachel's sake, _and it scared her a little because to do so would be ruining herself. The urge was strong though.

"It's fine, Finn. It wasn't as bad as it sounded. Santana blew it out of proportion. It's not like I was traumatised by it or anything."

"_But . . . she, like, she did try and kiss you?"_

He sounded jealous, it would be nice to know which one of them he was jealous of

"Uh, I guess. But it's no big deal. Guys try and kiss me all the time."

"_They do?"_

Okay, he was jealous for her, which was a little gratifying.

"Well not _try_, they know I'm with you, but they want to. Sure Berry being a girl made it a little weird but its not like I'm homophobic or anything."

"_Yeah, well she still shouldn't have done it. She knows you're my girlfriend."_

She rolled her sore eyes. "You weren't this upset when it was you she wanted to kiss."

"_I, uh, that's . . . that's different."_

"Why?"

"_Well it just is!"_

"Because we're both girls?"

"_No! I don't care about that kind of thing."_

"So are you worried because I might have kissed her back? Did _you_ kiss her back?"

She didn't know why she was pushing this, except that she had some sick compulsion too. Was she trying to catch him out? Admit something to him? She really didn't know.

"_I, uh, I mean, no, I know you wouldn't do that, right?" _He said awkwardly, and wisely completely ignored her second question.

She almost laughed, it would have been a horrible sound no doubt.

"_She's supposed to be my friend, she shouldn't have done that to me."_

"You can't help who you like, Finn. She feels terrible about hurting you now."

"_How would you know?"_

Oops! "I saw her face in Glee, just like you did."

"_That doesn't make it okay."_

"Finn, just . . .!"

'_Cut the girl some slack,' _she wanted to add but that would just lead to questions about her out of character behaviour and she wasn't letting that happen.

"Let it go, okay?" she said instead. "I don't want to think about it anymore."

"Okay_._" He went quiet for a moment and his voice was hopeful when he spoke again. _"It's still early, did you want me to come over for a while? I bet I could take your mind off of her kissing you, if you wanted me to?"_

Now she did laugh but with effort it came out fairly playful and not full of scorn. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not really in the mood for that tonight."

"_Oh. But last night was fun, right?"_

"It was." Due to, she was ashamed to admit, she'd been thinking about Rachel. "But I'm just not feeling well tonight."

"_Morning sickness again? That sucks. Is there anything I can do?"_

Get Rachel to forgive her?

"No, I'll be okay."

"_Sniff some more of that lemon fabric soap stuff. That helped yesterday."_

The tears came back just like that and she had to get off of the phone before he heard them.

"Uh, yeah, I will. I've really got to go though. I'll see you tomorrow."

"_Okay, feel better. Bye . . ."_

She couldn't wait any longer and cancelled the call.

* * *

><p>Rachel managed to do her homework, although she doubted she'd be getting any A's for her effort.<p>

For the rest of the evening she worked on her Glee assignment.

She'd had her Kelly Clarkson playlist on shuffle ever since she'd logged out of Facebook – skipping _Longshot _every single time it came on because she didn't need to be in tears while reading the assigned chapter of her Biology textbook – and she'd picked another song to sing tomorrow. _Breakaway _still summed up many of her current feelings but there was one song that spoke to her above all others tonight. The lyrics didn't necessarily match up but the emotion and sentiment behind them most definitely did.

She spent an hour and a half singing it, perfecting it, and perfecting _not __crying_ all the way through it, before she was satisfied.

Her cell phone had already chimed its ten 'o' clock alarm and she was getting ready for bed when it suddenly rang, jarring her with its unexpectedness. Who would be calling _her _tonight? Quinn's name foolishly came to mind, followed by Mike's, maybe he was ready to forgive her already.

It wasn't either of them; it was worse and she was in tears again by the time she hung up.

When she finally fell into bed, it was with the yearbook stuffed under her pillow, her right hand pressed clammily between the centre pages, knuckles squashed to photo-Quinn's face. She didn't even know why, it brought no comfort, in fact it hurt a little. All she could assume was that the physical pain of Quinn was better than the emotional pain of Quinn.

And it wasn't like she expected to get much sleep anyway.

* * *

><p>Quinn had cried herself into exhaustion at some point but she awoke again at two-fifteen, still in her clothes and on top of her covers.<p>

She knew why instantly and bolted from her bed with her hand over her mouth. She only just made it to the bathroom.

She'd had a relatively sickness-free day yesterday but clearly lying about it twice – first to Rachel and then to Finn – had caused Karma to bite her on the ass. She spent twenty minutes throwing up before it began to abate.

She spent a further twenty minutes slumped on her bathroom floor, wishing Rachel was there to ease the after-nausea, before she literally crawled back into her room in need of a distraction.

She grabbed her iPod from her desk and plugged the ear buds in. She started with her usual feel-good sixties mix, hoping it would soothe her, but only halfway through the Righteous Brothers singing _You've lost that lovin' feelin'' _she switched to something more contemporary, something that reminded her of _who _had lost that lovin' feelin', her Kelly Clarkson playlist.

She stayed on the floor, but pulled her pillow down with her and curled up around it, letting the music take her away. She listened to _Longshot _three times before letting the songs move on – it didn't help and yet it did.

She was almost drifting off when the perfect song filtered sleepily into her ears. Halfway through she restarted it to listen to it properly. After that she replayed it more times than she had _Longshot. _It was a fast song, but she felt more comfortable with something that gave her the room to dance anyway. By the sixth time she was pulling herself up to turn on her bedside light and grabbing a spare notepad from her desk to copy down the lyrics.

By five am she was downstairs in the garage – far enough away from her parents bedroom to not disturb them – and singing the song over and over, practicing keeping her pitch low even on the high notes so she wouldn't go sharp.

By six-thirty she was throwing up again – it didn't bode well for the rest of the day – but at least she had the perfect song to sing in Glee. And if _this_ didn't win Rachel over, well . . . no, there was no use in thinking negatively.

It _would _win Rachel over and that was that.

* * *

><p>Quinn arrived in American Literature a few minutes early and dropped down into the spare seat at the front beside Finn. She wished she could remain in it for the whole lesson but knew Mr Laxforth wouldn't let her. She could kill time there for as long as possible though.<p>

Finn was pleasantly surprised, normally she headed straight to her own desk – normally she was in a hurry to sit next to Berry, but not today – and he gave her his adorable grin.

"So how are you feeling this morning?" he whispered.

"Like crap," she admitted, "but you make it a little better."

His grin was more toothy now. "Cool. So I was thinking after school today . . ."

Berry was walking in.

"Yeah, that sounds great." She kissed him.

It wasn't a particularly passionate kiss, but she made it last. Her eyes popped open and she watched Rachel's head jerk away before she stalked to their shared desk at the back of the room.

When she pulled back he had forgotten what he was trying to say.

"Whatever you want," she murmured, "As long as we're together."

She gave him another quick kiss as Mr Laxforth strode in and then left that seat to go to her own. She sank down next to Berry (it had to be Berry now, she couldn't handle the familiarity of _Rachel _anymore but couldn't quite bring herself to think of the girl by any of the derogatory nicknames she'd come up with in the past) and pulled out her paperback and her notebook.

"I'm glad you and Finn are okay after yesterday," Ra-Berry muttered.

Quinn hated that she sounded sincere. "Why wouldn't we be?"

Berry shrugged.

The lesson started. It was another chapter reading. Quinn did her best to concentrate.

That went out the window when Berry's notepad was pushed towards her. It took her by surprise because she was normally the one who initiated this kind of thing. She knew she should it ignore it, but curiosity got the better of her.

_If you were kissing Finn for my sake you don't have to bother._

She scoffed under her breath and wrote back.

_Get over yourself!_

Rachel nodded and doodled on her page a little, clearly not paying any more attention to the lesson than she was.

_He called me last night._

If Quinn had had any liquid in her mouth she would have done a spit-take, as it was she settled for gasping hard.

_What? He did? When? Why?_

_Which question would you like me to answer first?_

Quinn glared at her out of the corner of her eye. _WHEN DID HE CALL YOU?_

Rachel took a second to jot down a sentence of notes before responding.

_About nine-thirty._

That was after he'd called her.

_Why?_

_He wanted to know why I did it._

Quinn cut her eyes to Berry for a moment before staring back down at her pad. It took her a minute before she could write anything.

_And what did you say?_

_That I wanted to see what he saw in you._

It was a good answer and made her ridiculously jealous.

_That is not why you did it!_

_It never even happened, Quinn!_

She dropped her pen for a minute, feeling a little embarrassed but mostly sick because that still hadn't left her yet today. She pressed her palm hard to her nose and mouth, willing the feeling away, before picking her pen back up.

_What did he say to that?_

_That I could have just asked him. I said actions speak louder than words. He seemed to accept that._

_So you two are okay again now? _

There was that jealousy again.

_No, he made it quite clear he is still displeased with me but I think he at least believes now that I'm not trying to steal you from him._

_Like you could ;)_

Maybe the smiley was too much. Maybe the words were. Rachel didn't respond anyway, just went back to doodling and writing the occasional line of notes. Quinn told herself to let it drop . . . and then didn't.

_So have you forgiven me yet?_

Rachel glanced over and then drew a sad face on her pad. A few seconds later she added,

_No._

Quinn slumped slightly in her seat.

After a minute, Rachel added,

_Why do you want me to?_

_I don't! _

She wrote it automatically and then regretted it. Rachel had already glanced over though. She battled with herself for a moment and then drew a deliberate line through her words and wrote instead,

_I just do!_

_Why?_

_I'm not spelling it out for you, Berry. If you don't get it that's your problem._

_Our problem, _Rachel wrote.

_Whatever!_

_You hurt me really badly Quinn!_

She swallowed hard before putting her pen to the paper.

_I know. I didn't mean to._

Rachel sat back and her pen bounced against her page so many times Quinn wanted to rip it from her and throw it away . . . but then she'd _never _get a reply.

She only had to wait, like, five minute for it.

_I want things to be okay between us again, I really do, but there's only one way._

Quinn sat forward and scribbled eagerly.

_And that is?_

_You have to tell everyone what really happened._

Quinn sat back, shaking her head. Berry was asking the impossible. There was no way she was admitting to being attracted to her. No freaking way. It was never happening.

_I'm not coming out just because you're throwing a shit-fit over this!_

Rachel turned to her, the fact that they were in class forgotten, to give her a wide-eyed look of disbelief. Thankfully she remembered where they were enough to write and not say her response.

_I would never force you to come out!_

_That's exactly what you just told me to do, _she wrote back angrily.

_No I just I don't know. I don't want too but you pretty much forced me out of the closet yesterday!_

Quinn was breathing heavy but she didn't know if she was angry or upset, both maybe.

_You're you, nobody cares if you're gay. They pretty much think you are anyway cos of your dads._

Rachel's eyes went wider than ever as she read that and then her elbow came down between them. She propped her head on it so that she couldn't even accidentally see Quinn.

_I didn't mean to offend you! _Quinn wrote quickly and shoved her pad past Rachel's elbow, not even caring if she was spotted passing notes.

"Leave me alone!" Rachel muttered.

"No!" she muttered back and pulled her pad back to add more words.

_I didn't think YOU would be offended by being called gay!_

Rachel scribbled back. _I'm not offended by that! Just by you!_

Ouch.

_I can't do that! I'm with Finn and I'm, you know, pregnant and stuff. I can't add any more to that. I'm already going out of my mind._

Rachel read it, sat back, flicked her pen against the page some more, sat forward again and wrote,

_Then why are you even pursuing me?_

Quinn didn't have an answer for that one and the remainder of the lesson passed with no more notes. Until just before Mr Laxforth called the lesson to a close. It was Rachel who wrote it.

_I'll gladly take on the pursuit if you can make this right._

Quinn rolled her eyes in despair before writing back.

_I can't do what you're asking, Rachel._

_Then I guess this is it._

_N- _

The bell rang before she could finish her response and Berry was out of her seat and away much quicker than she ever had been before. Quinn let her pen finish travelling the route it wanted to take anyway.

_-o, I don't want this to be it._

* * *

><p>Rachel was having a bad day. Not that she'd expected any less of course. It had started with her getting no sleep whatsoever, the bags under her eyes could have been travel pens for elephants! It was followed by American Lit. Walking in to see Quinn kissing Finn had been bad enough, but it wasn't anything she hadn't seen before, but then during their note passing, just for a little while there she'd thought Quinn was coming around.<p>

And she'd been completely wrong about that.

As a result, when the time came she couldn't get out of there fast enough.

In second period Biology she sat next to Tina, but the Asian goth was even more quiet than she normally was. Rachel had tried to strike up a conversation about the female reproductive system – which they were studying this week – but Tina had kept her head down the whole time, stuttering out one word answers until Rachel gave up.

Recess had been spent locked in a stall in the girls bathroom and she was planning to spend lunch the same way. The classes in-between were spent with her head down, avoiding the knowing, spiteful sneers of any fellow Glee Clubbers that shared the lesson.

* * *

><p>Quinn wasn't faring much better. As she was changing her books during recess, Santana's shoulder banged obtrusively against the locker beside hers.<p>

"So?"

"So what?" she asked, voice neutral, still looking in her locker.

"How's your day going?"

"About average. Yours?"

It gave her some satisfaction to see that Santana was clearly having trouble reading her.

"So have you seen RuPaul yet today?"

"We share a desk in first period. So yes."

Santana smirked. "And how did that go?"

She finally pulled her head out and slammed her locker door. "Well, considering she didn't even speak to me it went fine."

"So I guess I did you a favor then."

She wanted to wipe Santana's smirk off with a slap but decided to play her at own game instead.

"You know you ruined a good thing for me there, right? I had Manhands wrapped around my finger."

Santana shook her head. "Why would you want to?"

"Duh." She rolled her eyes. "When isn't it a good time to have someone wrapped around your finger? I had her eating out of the palm of my hand." Quinn searched for any more clichés she could use but came up empty. "She's not all bad, you know, there's potential there. She could have been useful sometime. Now . . . ?" she shrugged.

"Sorry," Santana offered with a shrug of her own, like she didn't know what she was apologising for.

"It's okay, I'll reel her back in. Next time _don't_ screw it up."

"Uh, sure, whatever."

Quinn walked away from Santana, leaving the girl gaping after her. It felt good to put her Captain hat back on and throw her weight around a little. That was why it was so awesome to be head Cheerio. Sure the scholarship was going to be useful, but this power, the power to even make someone like Santana fall in line if she just used the right words, there was nothing that could beat that.

And sorry Berry, but I'm not giving it up any time soon, she thought as she walked to third period with a smile.

The rest of her day didn't measure up, consisting of questions about Berry and comments about Berry. It didn't seem to matter what class she was in or what desk she took, someone from Glee was right there asking her awkward things. She made it through by rehashing her answers from the day before but it was exhausting and left her with a nasty taste in her mouth.

Or maybe that was the result of having to run to the nearest bathroom almost hourly throughout the day.

Either way, today was sucking even harder than she'd expected it to.

* * *

><p>Rachel had chosen the bathroom behind the gym to spend lunch in. It was the least used in the whole school which meant there was less chance of being discovered hiding away like a guilty person. It also made it marginally cleaner than the others and therefore slightly more hygienic (or as hygienic as an area dedicated to toilets could be anyway) for eating in. The fact that her next class was on this side of the school also factored in, but mostly it was the first reason.<p>

There were fifteen minutes remaining of the lunch period and after finishing her sandwiches at the sink she was now sitting on a closed toilet seat and, well, feeling sorry for herself really.

She jumped when the main door banged open and in a panic tried to shut and lock her stall door before she was discovered. It was only halfway shut when she heard someone slam into the far end stall to hers, the sound of knees hitting the tiled floor hard and then an all-too familiar retching sound.

No, no, no, this wasn't fair!

Quietly opening her door again, Rachel slid out, careful that her backpack didn't scrape on anything and walked as softly as she could across the floor. All she wanted to do was get out of there before she was spotted but she couldn't help glancing in to see the heaving back of a red and white Cheerios uniform, blonde ponytail bobbing along in sync.

Thankfully Quinn was far too busy to notice her presence and she made it all the way to the outer door only to find it wouldn't open when she got there. The key wasn't in the lock which meant it was probably still in Quinn's hand. Rachel bumped her forehead softly against the solid barrier in frustration.

Dropping her bag by the door she went back to the occupied stall.

"Quinn."

The blonde jumped at her voice but it was a little while before she could do more than that.

Eventually she croaked out, "How the hell did you get in here, Berry?"

"I was here first."

"You can't be here. You have to go. Now! Someone might . . ." The end of her sentence was cut off by her rebelling stomach.

"I'd like nothing more than to go, Quinn, but you've locked me in here with you." She took a few steps towards the stall. "Just give me the key and I'll let myself out."

"Can't leave the door unlocked," Quinn spluttered between bouts of gagging. "Coach is out there. Locker room inspection."

"Then what do you suggest I do? Because there is no way I am staying in a locked bathroom with you again."

"I suggest you . . . you be quiet_ . . . '_cause you are seriously . . . not helping. So just shut . . . up."

"Don't _talk_ to me like that! I understand you have zero respect for me in front of your friends but the very least you can do is speak to me civilly when we are alone."

"_Please _just shut up. Shut up and come here."

"I hardly think so." Rachel couldn't believe she had the audacity to even ask, except of course she could, this was _Quinn._ She took a step back instead, crossing her arms over her chest as if it would help root her to the spot.

Quinn's sickness took control again before she could say anything and Rachel watched, grimacing in sympathy as she rocked over the toilet bowl with the force of her heaving. She wanted to help, she wanted nothing more than to help, but she kept herself stationary, her residual anger and furious disappointment churning in her stomach with the same intensity that Quinn's baby hormones were churning in hers.

But the quiet, choked-out, "_Please?_" a few moments later broke her.

She was on her knees instantly, one hand pulling the blonde ponytail over Quinn's shoulder and holding it out of the way and her other rubbing the small of Quinn's back in tight, even circles.

"This is the very last time," she murmured, forehead pressed hard to Quinn's shoulder.

"Please don't cry!" the whispered plea came out strangled by Quinn's convulsing throat.

"I'm not," she lied. "Just hurry up and finish please."

"I don't exactly . . . set the pace . . . here, Rachel."

She smiled through her tears. "I know, it's okay, I wasn't going to set a timer or anything."

They were quiet for the next five minutes. Rachel didn't know what else to say and Quinn was too busy being sick to make conversation. Through-out Rachel rubbed her back, smoothed escaped strands of blonde off of Quinn's sweaty face and worried about what was going to happen when the vomiting stopped and only the nausea remained.

She found out when the five minutes were up. Quinn wiped her mouth on some toilet paper, blew her nose on another piece and then used a whole wad to wipe her watering eyes and damp face. Rachel took her distraction to try and back subtly away but she was too slow and found her thumb caught gently in the curl of Quinn's fingers.

"Can I?"

It was murmured so quietly that Rachel could feasibly pretend she hadn't heard and continue to stand up, but it was the very fact that it had been so vulnerably uttered that broke her resolve all over again.

"Yes."

Quinn kept hold of her thumb as she moved into her and slid her other arm around her waist. It was different to how they'd done this before. Quinn curled into her, resting the side of her head on Rachel's shoulder, tilted just enough that her nose was brushing the collar of her sweater, she pulled her knees up to her chest and let them fall to rest against Rachel's raised right knee and their joined hands were nestled between Quinn's thighs and stomach. Rachel's left leg literally had nowhere to go but wrap loosely around where Quinn met the floor. With Quinn leaning fully into her chest it was more comfortable to shift her weight over so that she could sit down and lean back against the wall of the stall than try and support the extra weight on her knees. After waving her free left arm in the air for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to do with it, she let it drop around Quinn's back, her hand closing lightly around her bicep. It was the most intimate position they had ever been in – with perhaps the exception of Mrs Puckerman's bathroom floor – and Rachel hated that she never ever wanted to move.

They sat in silence for a minute and apart from the faint press of Quinn's nose to her collar every few seconds it was easy for Rachel to fool herself into thinking she was simply holding Quinn for the pleasure they both found in it. At least, Rachel was finding a lot of pleasure in it.

"What are you thinking?"

"You should be aware that that question sounds very _girlfriend-y_ of you, Quinn."

"No, I . . .I just . . ." Embarrassment colored her words. "You just had this weird frowny-smirk look on your face. I wondered why."

"Well, I was thinking this was a bad day to wear a short skirt."

She couldn't tilt her head enough to see Quinn's face but she figured she probably had her own frowny-smirk now.

"Why is that?"

"It's not behaving very skirt-like at the moment. More . . . belt-like."

"I see."

Quinn left it at that which surprised Rachel. She'd either expected her to ask why it was a problem or maybe even jump away, but perhaps she was just still feeling too sick to do either. Rachel let the back of her head thud against the wall and tried not to think about the way Quinn's hip was pressing intimately against her.

"Just whatever you do, don't kiss my neck," she muttered to herself.

"Excuse me?"

Rachel blushed, "You weren't supposed to hear that."

"In that case you probably shouldn't have whispered it two inches from my ear."

Nodding, she closed her eyes to hide from the awkwardness she'd created but Quinn didn't seem bothered by it – if anything she snuggled in a little more. Her eyes jumped open again when the bell in the corridor outside the bathroom rang.

Quinn still didn't move, her voice sounded sleepy as she asked, "What class do you have?"

"Study Hall. Mr. Jacobs is out with the flu."

She should have lied! Nobody cared in this school whether you attended Study Hall or not, most of the time the overseer didn't even turn up until halfway through.

"I have Spanish."

"You probably shouldn't be late for that," she said, somewhat desperately. There was a fine line between never wanting this to end and completely losing her sanity after all.

"I'll tell Mr. Schue my morning sickness was really bad. He won't mark me as absent as long as I collect any assignments he sets."

"So I'm stuck here," Rachel breathed, eyes closing again.

Quinn's tone was a little cooler than before, but also a little amused. "Did you mean for me to hear _that_?

"No."

"Look, if I'm making you uncomfortable."

"You _are _making me uncomfortable but only because I have _never _felt so comfortable with anybody in my life. And I know its not going to last and yet the longer it goes on the more I want it to, but its not going to, so yes, uncomfortable," she finished with less oomph than she'd started.

There was a beat of heavy silence.

"I'm confused; do you want me to stop sniffing your neck or not?"

Rachel giggled and turned one of the blonde's favorite teasing phrases back on her, "Whatever you feel comfortable with, Quinn."

Quinn squeezed her thumb tight as punishment but didn't move. "I'm perfectly comfortable. In fact I could fall asleep. I didn't get much last night and you're surprisingly snug for a little person."

"I don't think I had more than an hour's sleep all night either," she admitted.

"Do you think we could then?" Quinn did sound very sleepy again. "Just for ten minutes?"

"I think our time could be better spent talking about what this means," she said softly. "Yesterday we were denouncing each other in front of Glee Club and then we were horrible to each other on Facebook."

"That doesn't have to matter right now," Quinn murmured, head sinking a little more heavily onto her shoulder.

"But it does matter. We shouldn't be doing this."

"We're not doing anything except sitting here." Rachel felt Quinn's lips against her neck but it was only because she was yawning. "Stop being difficult and take a nap with me."

"I meant what I said this morning, Quinn. I can't forgive you, I can't continue this, if you don't clear my name. I don't expect you to come out, I would never put that kind of pressure on you, especially when we're not even really together, but you have to tell them something. You could just tell them the truth, sort of, you know, the truth part about Santana making up what happened in the bathroom because she's trying to get your place on the Cheerios. You could say that I really was just in the bathroom to help you and that I didn't try anything funny. That wouldn't be so hard, would it Quinn? Quinn, would it? Can't you do that for . . . this?" She waited ten seconds for a reply. "Quinn?"

She was out; body limp against Rachel, and so warm. Soft, even puffs of breath hot against her neck.

Now she really was stuck here! But it just made her smile. She carefully pulled her thumb from Quinn's loose grasp and slid that hand around her waist, holding Quinn against her in the circle of her arms. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to revel in the warmth of the body against hers. And the fact that Quinn Fabray, despite their thousands of issues, was comfortable enough in her arms to fall soundly asleep.

Maybe it was wrong, but she didn't want to lose this. It _felt_ too right. And it felt like forgiveness wasn't even a . . . a thing now. They'd make it work. No matter what happened. Somehow.

Because something this good just . . . couldn't . . . be . . . denied.

Rachel turned her face enough to kiss the top of Quinn's head and then stopped fighting her heavy eyelids.


	40. The Moment I Wake Up

Hi guys, thanks for all the reviews for the last chapter. Sorry I haven't been able to reply personally to any this time. My laptop is as good as dead. Needs a new harddrive, a new battery, a new charger cable. Getting it work for fifteen minutes at a time counts as a good day at the moment. This is that fifteen minutes today, so I won't waste anymore time except to say most of this was edited on my new tablet (oh yes, life isn't all bad) but I haven't really gotten the hang of it yet (only had it 2 days!) so I'm sorry for any typos or dodgy sentences.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter Forty: The Moment I Wake Up.<strong>

The bell ringing to signal the end of fifth period startled Quinn awake and sent her into a confused panic.

'_Where am I? What's happening? Who am I laying on. . .?'_

"Five more minutes, Daddy!"

'_. . . Oh, God, it's Rachel! Of course it's Rachel, isn't this how all my nightmares end?'_

_Whether they're actually nightmares or not is subjective._

'_Does it sound like I'm actively praying right now?'_

_Sometimes it's hard to tell, and you did call out your Lord's name. Don't tell me it was in vain?_

'_Of course not, I would never do that. Much. I'm sorry.'_

_You're forgiven. Besides, you have a bigger problem right now._

'_Is falling asleep on another girl a sin?'_

_You tell me?_

'_Ugh, I'm getting really sick of that answer!'_

_Does it feel like a sin?_

'_It feels wonderful.' _As evidenced by the fact that she still hadn't moved more than her head from Rachel's shoulder. _'But aren't sins supposed to be tempting?'_

_Let's be honest, you've been walking that fine line between good and evil for a couple of years now, Lucy. Which side of it do you think this puts you on?_

'_Evil?' _No, that felt too obvious. _'. . . Good? Seriously?'_

_Doesn't it feel like goodness?_

'_Ye-ah', _she prayed cautiously, sure there was a catch.

_Then maybe you should build on that. And to help you out, Rachel's about to wake up in three . . . two . . ._

Shot through with nerves, Quinn did her best to smile when Rachel slowly opened her eyes.

"Hi, sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep too. What time is it?"

"Amen."

Rachel blinked a few times and then squinted at her. "Huh?"

"A, um, . . . bell just rang. I assume sixth period is about to start any minute."

"Okay." Rachel rolled her shoulders against the stall wall. "I have Music. As long as I'm not too late I'll be forgiven."

Quinn had Government but she didn't care. "Thank you for letting me sleep."

Rachel smiled. "You're welcome. I obviously succumbed to the need. . ."

Acting on either the advice from above or instinct, she wasn't sure, Quinn leaned those few inches closer. After a moment of inaction, both of them surprised by what she'd done, she pulled Rachel's lips open with her own and they shared their first open mouth kiss.

It lasted about five seconds before Rachel pulled away, head falling back against the wall as she giggled. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry! That was awesome but your mouth tastes like death."

Quinn jerked away from her, covering her offended mouth with her hand. How could she have forgotten she'd spent fifteen minutes throwing up before she'd fallen asleep. Morning breath was apparently bad enough but she must have devil's morning breath right now!

She moved up onto her knees. Rachel made an attempt to pull her back but she was still weak with giggles. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"Don't worry about it. We have to go anyway."

"Yes, I guess we should."

Neither of them jumped up right away though because their legs were numb from sleeping for nearly an hour in an awkward position. Rachel made it up first, using the stall wall behind her for help.

"I've never fallen asleep with someone before. It was nice." Despite her bright tone she sounded kind of shy.

Quinn knew she sounded just as shy when she answered, "Yeah, it was. We probably shouldn't make a habit of it in school though."

"Can we make a habit of it elsewhere?"

Quinn chuckled softly as she grabbed her master key from beside the toilet and finally made it to her feet. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

Rachel's face clouded over, but it was with white clouds now, rather than the dark ones that had been there before.

"Maybe, I don't know. How much of my speech did you hear before you fell asleep?"

"You made a speech?"

Her answer was a roll of Rachel's eyes and then she was walking out of the stall. Quinn followed her.

"Why don't you just give me the CliffsNotes?"

"You have to clear my name. Not come out or anything, just tell people that I didn't try and jump your bones while you were throwing up. Tell them I was just holding your hair back or stayed on hand in case you needed the nurse and Santana twisted it to blackmail you, or because she thought it would help her secure the Homecoming crown!"

Quinn was washing her mouth out in the sink, but now she turned back to her. "Rachel, I want to but its not that simple!"

"Look, I don't even care if you pretend to still hate me! And that's me being very easy-going, Quinn. I just need you to clear my name. I can't have everyone thinking I tried to force myself on you!"

Quinn's mind raced, trying to come up with a way to placate Rachel without having to do the impossible that she wanted. "What if I un-veto the sex thing?"

Rachel's eyes went wide and not in a good way (at least not after the first second or two).

"I am not Finn! You can not manipulate me with sexual acts."

"Really?" she tried, but the glare told her all she needed to know. "Fine, but in that case I'm veto-ing the sex back up."

"Good!"

She rolled her eyes. "Like you mean that."

"This isn't getting us anywhere!"

"Where exactly do you want us to get, Berry?"

"I don't know," Rachel admitted quietly.

"We should just go. We've already missed the first fifteen minutes of class."

Rachel nodded and walked to pick up her bag from by the door. Quinn would have to stop by her locker for hers because she'd left it in there at lunch. Rachel was waiting for Quinn to come forward and open the door, but before she could slide the key in the lock there was a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to glance down at the hand and then met Rachel's eyes curiously.

"This is what I want," she murmured and went up on her tiptoes to kiss her. Quinn's knees went weak during their _second_ open-mouth kiss. It lasted about three seconds longer than the last one. "Hold on, I have some mints in my bag."

She didn't even care that her breath had just been insulted again and blurted out the only thought to enter her head. "We're going to stay in here and keep kissing?"

"Oh no." Rachel looked apologetic as she pulled a box of Junior Mints out of her bag and handed them over. "I just don't think you want to inflict that breath on anyone else."

"Watch it, Gnome," she murmured with a smile as she popped three of the mints into her mouth. "Keep that up and I won't kiss you again."

Rachel grinned, "What makes you think I want you to?"

Quinn stepped in, pinning Rachel back with her sheer presence and one hand braced on the door behind her. She hovered just there, an inch away. "Do you?"

Rachel just continued to grin up at her, not giving much away.

Quinn was still so unsure about most of this, no _all _of this, but the building excitement in Rachel's eyes gave her all the courage she needed to close the gap between them by half an inch. "Do you?"

"Clear my name," Rachel breathed.

"It's not that easy," she breathed back.

"Then know this will be the last time I ever let you kiss me."

Rachel arched up into her to press their lips together and immediately Quinn dipped her head to meet it. After a second of chaste contact she parted her lips, brushing them over Rachel's until hers parted too. Quinn lost count of the seconds it lasted this time, or maybe she'd never started counting in the first place. Surely, this could only be good. It might be wrong on a . . . socio-economic level_, _butthere was nothing evil about this!

Actually was it _too _good?. She was pressing the other girl firmly back against the door with just the length of her body and the power of her lips and only realized the implications when Rachel's arms tightened around her neck and she whimpered into her mouth. The rush of heat that coursed through her body had her pulling back abruptly, shocked by her own actions (and reactions).

"Mmm, minty." Rachel licked the curve of her smile with intense (bordering-on-crazy) eye contact. She was clearly a novice seductress, but it still called to some unmentionable feeling inside of Quinn. It was all she could do to resist the pull when Rachel tried to draw her back down into another kiss.

"We really have to go now," she insisted after a deep, steadying breath and finally slid the key into the lock.

Rachel nodded and picked her bag up from where she'd dropped it _again_. "Well, it was nice getting to know you, Quinn."

She gave her an odd look as she unlocked the door. "That sounded final."

"Well, I think I made my point perfectly clear."

Oh, right. No coming clean, no more kissing.

"I guess you did." She held the door for Rachel. "It's your loss, you know?"

"It's _our _loss," Rachel countered as she sauntered out.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Following Rachel out, she hesitated over it for a moment before reaching out to hold her hand as they walked. It was a small gesture – and partly a power-play if she was being honest – but it made Rachel smile at her and lightly squeeze her fingers so Quinn was happy to consider it a good move.

"I suppose we _should _make the most of this before we encounter civilisation and I have to drop your hand like a hot brick lest anyone thinks I actually like you," Rachel, still smiling, added an oversized wink to sell her quip.

It was a joke that could have easily fallen flat, but Quinn was still buzzed from their kiss and the hope that despite Rachel's adamant demands things were going to work out okay, and laughed easily.

"Civilisation? At McKinley? I think you're over-reaching there. So are you going to sing your Kelly Clarkson solo in Glee club today?" she asked, deciding to make conversation of the thing playing on her mind.

She was convinced now that she'd picked the right song. How could she not have when she was practically bursting with the emotion within the lyrics? It would be so awesome if she could just sing it to Rachel now, alone in this deserted corridor instead of in front of ten other kids and a teacher. She knew she wouldn't be able to do it justice, not with all of them watching her and judging her – and she didn't just mean for her singing.

Rachel nodded, but she didn't look very sure. "Yes. If I'm permitted to."

She looked nervous. That was new. So far there had never been a time when Rachel didn't eagerly jump at the chance of a solo. Quinn only had to think for a second before the answer was obvious.

Yesterday.

She was quick to reassure her. "I won't let a repeat of yesterday happen, Rachel. I don't . . ." she hesitated over what she was about to say, but really no good could come from sugar-coating. "I don't know how exactly, and if I'm honest I might have to be a little mean, but I won't let you . . . either of us go through that again. If the worst comes to the worst, I'll . . . set off the fire alarm."

"That's not the problem," Rachel began, but before Quinn could learn what actually was she was pulled to a stop. "You're coming to Glee club? I thought after your walk out yesterday you'd stay away, at least for a little while, to save face."

She shook her head. "If anyone questions it I'll just pretend to be as stubborn as you and say I refuse to be run out."

"Pretend?" Rachel grinned.

Quinn scowled before breaking into her own grin. "Leaving would be bad for votes anyway." At Rachel's confused frown, she added, "For Homecoming Queen. I'm counting on collecting at least ten from Glee club. Obviously Santana will vote for herself and Brittany's vote will go to her too, but . . ." Suddenly she heard voices coming from around the corner, where the locker rooms were, and sighed. "Not exactly what I'd call civilisation, but . . ." she said, hoping to mask how fast she'd let go of Rachel's hand with some levity.

"Well, one of them, maybe not both," Rachel said, not sounding in the least bothered that her hand had been dropped like a cursed spirit stick.

A second later Finn and Puck came around the corner, both laughing over whatever stupid boy-thing they'd been talking about.

"Hey!" Finn greeted them both with a surprised smile but it faltered all to quickly. "Wait, what are you two doing here? Together?"

There was going to be no beating around the bush then.

"Morning sickness." She needn't have bothered opening her mouth, his eyes were on Rachel anyway.

God, that pissed her off.

"We bumped into each other in the bathroom." Rachel was telling the truth but she sounded so guilty. And she called herself an actress?

Finn was picking up on it. "Wait, you followed her into the bathroom _again_?"

His accusation was softly spoken but it was still an accusation. This was where she stepped in, except she didn't. She could at least blame it on being distracted by Puck.

"More morning sickness, Fabray?"

"Mmhmm."

"Glad you finally found a cure for that."

She just glared at him, not sure what he was insinuating.

Finn finally dragged his eyes from Rachel to Puck. "You know about the lemon soap stuff?"

"Huh? I was talking the magical abilities of Berry's tongue!"

"Uh, ew!" she snapped automatically. "Berry's tongue has never been anywhere near me!" Although another ten seconds of kissing earlier and it might have been playing with her own! Quinn tried not to lose herself in that thought.

"I thought it was in your mouth two days ago?"

Puck successfully cut through her thoughts, leeringly, but it took Rachel's snapped reply to bring her back up to speed.

"That never happened!"

Oh right, that. This was her opening. She couldn't seem to take it.

"Quit lying, Berry. We all know the truth. I think it's hot. You throwing yourself at the ice queen here. It's gonna keep me warm for more than a few nights."

"That's because you're disgusting!" Rachel spat. "And Finn, shouldn't you be defending your girlfriend?"

It seemed to bring him out of his jealous stupor and he punched his best friend on the shoulder. "Hey, don't talk about Quinn like that."

"Oh please? You still think she's so innocent? She's screwing Berry, for fucks sake!"

"I am not!"

"She is not! Take that back, Noah Puckerman!"

"Well something is going on. And I'm thinking she forced her tongue down your throat the other day and you kinda liked it, so you invited her back for seconds."

"I never forced my tongue down her throat! Quinn, please!

The buzzing white noise was back but she forced out, "It never happened."

"Of course you're going to say that now you've been caught out."

"It never happened," she repeated and it sounded like someone else was saying it, from far, far away.

"Back off, Puck!" Finn snapped. "You heard her, nothing happened today."

"Not just today!" Rachel was glaring at her.

Why was Rachel glaring at her, she was doing what she wanted! Did she have to say it again? Fine!

"Nothing happened!"

"Oh right, okay . . . no, wait, still not believing it," Puck laughed

Quinn decided she didn't really care, but Rachel obviously did by the glaring that was _still _going on. "She didn't . . . I mean, she didn't . . ." '_Oh, Jesus, why is this so hard?'_ "Nothing happened today, alright? I was being sick, she just came to see if I was okay."

"So she's stalking you now?" Puck seemed to like that idea just as much.

"I am not stalking her! We just bumped into each other!"

"It's a dead-end corridor miles from the lunch room, Berry, pretty big coincidence that you just happened to be walking down it at the same time as her, don't you think?"

Rachel threw her hands up in an 'I can't win!' way and then put them on her hips. "This is ridiculous and I don't see what it has to do with you anyway, Puckerman. You are not Quinn's boyfriend so I don't understand why I have to explain myself to you and, frankly, you salivating over the fantasy of Quinn and I kissing is as offensive as it is repulsive!"

"But it's alright for you to salivate over it?"

"What's 'salvinate' mean?" Finn asked, trying to keep up. "Is it a sex thing? Because I'm not okay with either of you doing that with my girlfriend. Especially if I can't salvinate with her too," he added quietly to himself.

"Nobody is salivating over me!" she insisted.

"Wishful thinking, Fabray, especially now I know it's mutual."

Quinn shuddered as she shot back, "There is _nothing _mutual between us, Puckerman."

He gave her a long long, which briefly dipped to her stomach before he met her eyes again. Crap, now what was he going to say? This suddenly had the potential to be so much worse. Thankfully he cut her a break, of sorts.

"I wasn't talking about us. I was talking about you and Berry. I can talk about _us _if you . . ."

"There is no me and Berry. There is just Berry and her crush, Finn and I, and you and your delusions . So I don't know what you're insinuating, but you seriously need to _stop _with it."

"Yeah? I think you've forgotten that I know what you look like when you have an itch to scratch," he teased. "It's just a matter of time. I'll even buy you the wine coolers if you let me wat . . ."

Oh wow, this suddenly just got _so_ much worse!

"I have no idea what he's talking about," she bit out in the face of Finn's confusion and Rachel's glare turning inquisitive. "If you think I _wanted_ Berry to kiss me, you are so mistaken, Puckerman!"

"Quinn, I didn't do anything!"

She turned to snap, "Quiet, Man . . . hands."

Quinn licked her bottom lip regretfully, wishing she hadn't gone there, but this was so much bigger than _them _now. In fact right this second, she didn't give a _shit _about _them_. She had bigger game to kill.

"Listen closely!" She stepped right into Puck's personal space. "I do not care that she tried to kiss me. I do not care than she has a crush on me," she growled into his face. "I do not care that she followed me down here today to try for seconds. In fact, do you know what? I think it's kind of awesome. I'm happy for _her _to pester me. And I do not care if you go and tell the whole world that. But, so help me God, Puck, if you do not shut your stupid mouth and get out of my face right now I will care, I will care a great _fucking _deal and I will make your life _hell_!" She punctuated the threat with a sharp stab of her finger to the centre of his chest.

He tried to stare her down but she was his one weak spot, or at least the thing growing inside her was, and he slowly lost his grin when he couldn't take the cold, deadly serious look in her eyes any longer.

He rocked onto his back foot, hands lifting slightly from his sides. "Whatever, Milf. You and I both know the truth, right?"

"The _truth _is I don't care what you think, about anything."

He sneered and made another 'whatever' gesture and then turned to walk away. She only stopped glaring after him when he turned the corner.

"Whoa, that was intense." Finn looked scared by the ferocity of her outburst.

"He pisses me off." She was still seething. She wasn't the only one. "What now, Berry?"

"You are unbelievable!"

"Thank you."

"You should try it when she kisses back." Finn's grin dropped and he back-stepped from their dual glare. "That was a joke! I thought you said you didn't care . . ." When Quinn was unforgiving he turned to Rachel. "Come on, I think I'm being pretty cool about you trying to kiss my girlfriend _again_," he pleaded with her.

"I. Did. Not. . . ."

Now Puck was silenced for a while longer, Quinn could think about _them _again. She knew she had just done the opposite of what Rachel wanted, but she'd had to slap Puck down. He was higher up the list of her priorities. There was a positive spin to be put on this though.

"Finn, stop talking. Rachel, take a pill. I just did what you wanted."

"That was nothing like what I wanted!"

"I _just_ told Puck that I didn't care that you liked me, yunno, _like_ that. I told him I was completely okay with it. It'll be around the school by tomorrow morning and then nobody will think what happened is a big deal anymore. Those losers you want so badly to be friends with won't have a good reason to be mad at you if I'm not and it'll totally take the wind out of Santana's sails too."

"But they'll all still think I've forced myself on you . . . _twice, now_!"

Quinn shrugged a shoulder; what else could she do with Finn standing right there.

"No, Quinn, just no! That is not good enough."

"It's called compromise, Berry!"

"I am not compromising on this."

She shot her boyfriend a glance, he was listening closely but by the strained look on his face she could tell he wasn't really following.

"Well, you're going to have to."

"No I don't."

With one last glare filled with disappointment and resentment, Rachel stormed off.

"Rachel, I'm sorry, but you can't have it all your own way!"

At the corner, Rachel spun back to face her. "This isn't about pizza toppings or . . . or solo performances, Quinn. This is about right and wrong and how _your_ decisions are affecting _my_ life. Think about what you're doing to me? Would you compromise if our roles were reversed?"

She knew she wouldn't and her expression must have been speaking for her.

"Exactly!" With an angry shake of her head Rachel turned the corner.

"Rachel!"

It was too late, she was really gone. Quinn stared into the empty space, knowing that she'd just blown it again and her chances had to be running out.

Maybe if she explained about Puck to Rachel the other girl would understand why she'd gone on the attack instead of calmly denying all of his claims, but then that would mean someone _knowing _about Puck. She'd already trusted Rachel with a lot, she felt like she could trust her, but what if it _didn't_ make things alright between them – Rachel would have way too much on her if they went from this straight back to being enemies.

And that felt like a very real possibility.

"Quinn, what's going on with Rachel?"

She'd forgotten Finn was there but he must have been watching her, them, this whole time and now his brain was starting to put dangerous elements together. Never a good thing.

"You know what's going on, everyone does."

"I know what I've been told, but that . . . _that _seemed like there was more to it."

She didn't say anything.

"Look, don't get mad at me, okay? But, did you lie about her kissing you? You can tell me, I won't say anything."

What was he asking exactly?

Was it just what it sounded like? If so, maybe she could reach Rachel this way. Maybe just this small thing would be enough. One offer of truth, one person who wouldn't think Rachel was a horrible person. Would that be enough for things to be okay between them? Was she even brave enough to do that? Did she want it enough?

"Yes."

"You lied?"

"Yes, Finn."

"So what did happen?"

She leant back against the wall, hands clasped in front of her and stared down at the floor.

"Quinn?"

"Santana was about to beat Rachel up in the bathroom because Mercedes and Tina slushied her, and I just happened to go in there about to be sick and . . . interrupted. I didn't want to throw up with Santana there, you know what she's like, so I made up some excuse to get her out of there, but Rachel wouldn't go. She was too scared of Santana catching her again, I guess. So I let her stay in there with me, locked the door and then threw my guts up. Rachel didn't do anything wrong, in fact she stayed out of my way the whole time we were in there, but now Santana thinks I deliberately stepped in to stop her beating on Berry and she's trying to get back at both of us."

She replayed what she'd said in her head. It was a good mix of truth and lies, definitely believable. She glanced up at Finn to see if he thought so too. He looked . . . faraway.

"So why did you send that text message?"

"Santana stole my phone from my bag and sent it."

"That's why you were so surprised about it at lunch."

She did her best to restrain her eye-roll. "Yes."

"So why did you go along with it in Glee?"

She was getting sick of the twenty questions and was starting to wish she'd just lied again.

"Because Santana had me over a barrel and then apparently Rachel's been going around telling people she wants to kiss me. It kind of freaked me out okay, I didn't know she'd been saying stuff like that."

That wasn't a lie.

"So she does actually like you?"

"I have no idea."

Again, no lie. Rachel could easily be back to hating her again already.

"If it never happened, why did she apologise for it last night on the phone?"

That caught her off guard because she'd forgotten he'd called Rachel last night. Darnn! Now what did she say?

"Maybe she just feels bad that you _think _she kissed me. You know how dramatic she can be. She probably thought that apologising to you would make you want to be friends with her again regardless of what actually happened.

"I guess. She can be kinda needy like that." Quinn wouldn't really know, so far she'd been needy enough for the both of them. It was so pathetic. She couldn't wait for this baby to be out of her! Finn gestured back down the corridor. "But what about today?"

"It actually was a coincidence. She was already in there when I went in to be sick. She hung around to make sure I was okay, that's why we were walking out together."

"Okay, but . . ."

"No." She pushed off the wall. "No more. I've answered all your questions so far but I do not intend to spend the rest of the day talking about Rachel Berry with you. You know what really happened now, surely that's enough?"

"Yeah. Thanks. You know you could have just told me the truth all along, right? You don't have to keep stuff from me. I could have helped or something. We're having a baby together, I want to help you with everything, if I can."

She smiled at the sincerity in his eyes and reached out to stroke his arm. "I know, and I would have." If she'd thought of it, if she hadn't been so caught up in thoughts of Rachel, she probably would have told him _something _to save herself some of the heat. "But it really all just happened so quickly. I thought that text would be the end of it. I didn't know Santana was going to take it to the _next level_."

There was something else on his mind.

"Spit it out."

"You know you're letting everyone think she did a really bad thing?"

Of course she did, she wasn't _stupid_, and the fact that he even felt the need to _check_ got her back up. "Why does everyone think wanting to kiss me is a _really bad thing_? I think Rachel wanting to kiss me should actually gain her some respect. Push her a few rungs higher up the social ladder. Why _wouldn't_ she want to kiss me?"

'_Note to self: Shut up!_

"No, of course, I mean, yeah! You're awesome to kiss!"

'_Thank you, Rachel thinks so. Even with the Devil's morning breath.'_

"Thank you."

"I'd kiss you right now if we were in a, oh wait . . ." Finn's smile turned into something he probably thought was seductive. It kind of was in a goofy way. " . . . we are in a deserted, dead-end hallway with no one else around."

She couldn't really say no, well she could, but . . .

He stepped closer and her head just tilted up automatically, otherwise she'd have been staring at his chest a few inches from her face. When he leaned down to kiss her it was familiar, it was nice, but it was _not _the thirty-some seconds in Heaven she'd recently shared with Rachel.

"You two, break it up before I get the hose!" Quinn's heart stopped when the terrifying voice started shouting from down the corridor. They jumped guiltily apart as the cheerleading coach bore down on them. "Jockstrap, what are you doing eating the face off of my head Cheerio when you should be out on the field?"

"Yeah, uh, Coach Tanaka sent me to fetch some rolls of toilet paper. Gil Steventon busted his lip really bad when Puck tackled him."

Quinn pushed at his chest. "And you stopped to make out with me?"

"Go!" Sue barked.

Quinn tried to take that as her cue too.

"Not so fast, Q! What are you doing down here? I happen to know you should be in one of those pointless classes where you learn about history of the penny or how the slaves invented under-floor heating. So you better have a damn good reason for being not in it."

She really didn't. Not one she could tell the coach anyway. Still, she was a master at dealing with Sue Sylvester and now Finn had gone she could freely lie about him.

"Finn and I had an argument at lunch. I asked him to meet me here so we could make up."

"Hmm, I knew he was lying. I could smell it on him. Was the argument about Glee club?"

"Yes."

Coach Sylvester beckoned her closer with her finger. "Come and tell me about it."

Now what did she say? She didn't have to dig very deep.

"Mr. Schuester keeps giving all of the duets to Finn and that Rachel Berry. The rest of us are getting completely ignored. He doesn't even care that I'm his girlfriend or that there are much better female singers in that club than her. It's like he's biased towards them or something."

"I see. You know, Q, I think I can do something about your predicament next week when I finally take on my role as co-Glee director."

"That's awesome." Quinn was just happy her lies were being bought until the words sunk in. "Wait, what?"

"I tried to weasel out of it when the idea started to bore me, but Figgins is insisting. I trust I have your full support in this, Quinn?"

She had no idea what she was agreeing too, but Coach Sylvester was clearly willing to turn a blind eye to her class-skipping if she did.

"Of course."


	41. Forgive Me

1) Some serious tech fails are to blame for the latest long delay, but I got a new laptop out of it so personally I think it was worth it (now; I didn't when I had nothing to write with but pen and paper and an no web access!).

2) I don't like giving warnings, because as a reader I don't like getting warnings. I like to be surprised. I'm going to make another exception however because I know some peoples patience are wearing thin. This chapter contains more bullying. It's the last chapter (of this story) that will contain bullying. So if you're still reading, but it's starting to get your goat, please bear with me. There really is light at the end of the tunnel.

3) This chapter contains lyrics from songs by _Aerosmith _and _Kelly Clarkson. _I obviously don't own them, but I love them and this is my way (along with buying the songs) of showing how much. If you don't know them, check them out, they're worth it.

**Chapter Forty-one: Forgive me.**

After sixth period it was time to go to Glee and despite all of her big words yesterday Rachel wasn't looking forward to it. She was going to go, they were not running her out, but she really didn't want to walk into that room after what had transpired yesterday.

So she took the long way around, idly fantasizing that things were completely different and that Quinn was going to walk in with her, holding her hand the way she had in the hallway earlier, while they both glared at anyone who dared to question their love.

Her round-about route took her past Mike's locker, which was just around the corner from her own. He was there, alone, and Rachel strode over before she could think herself out of it.

"Can we talk?"

He glanced at her before looking back in his locker. "What about?"

"About yesterday. What Quinn said . . . well, it wasn't true."

"It's none of my business anymore."

"Mike, please, I understand your anger but I promise you it isn't like you think."

He slammed his locker closed and turned to her. "So what was it like?"

"I didn't try and kiss Quinn against her will."

He took a moment before he asked, "So you didn't kiss her?"

She hesitated. Why did she hesitate? She was a fool to herself with all this honesty business.

"I . . . I may have been confused about a few things, but I'm not now."

"You're not?"

Oh, her feelings were still really confusing but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt now that she would never be Quinn's chew-toy again. After the blonde's confrontation with Noah she wasn't sure she could ever trust the girl to do right by her again.

"No, definitely not."

"Okay." Mike looked nervous all of a sudden. He stared down at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck, then turned to his locker only to realize he'd already closed it. He tapped his fingers against the dial a couple of times but didn't re-open it. Finally he swivelled back around to smile at her, only to get lost in reading a poster on the wall behind her head. "You know, Homecoming is tomorrow."

Yes, she knew that. Anyone who walked the halls of McKinley couldn't help but know that at the moment. The propaganda . . . sorry, _promotional_ posters were everywhere. Was Mike not feeling well? He was perspiring, swallowing extensively and . . . jittery.

"Mike, do you need the nurse?"

"Maybe." When she was about to run and fetch one, he caught her hand and softly laughed. "No, I'm fine. I think I'm fine. If you were serious, that is, about Quinn. Were you serious?"

Yes, she was _very _serious about Quinn, but thankfully she had not forgotten the context of their conversation. "Yes, I have no desire to be anywhere near Quinn."

"In that case," Mike said, still looking strung-out. "I wanted to hang out with you yesterday because I was going to ask . . ."

Rachel stopped listening when she saw Quinn come around the corner, sucking a big gulp slushie up through a straw. Their eyes met and electricity crackled until Quinn looked away and Mike's voice filtered back in.

". . . so did you want to? Or have I just been _really_ lame? I have." He deduced from her blank stare. I've just spent twenty-four hours giving you the cold shoulder and now I'm asking you to come to Homecoming with me." Mike groaned in self-depreciating despair before grinning shyly. "But, my total lameness aside, do you want to? Because I'd really like to go with you, Rachel."

Rachel was stunned. This had never happened to her before. No one had ever asked her to be their date to a dance. She wanted to jump up and down in excitement but figured such dorkiness would make Mike regret asking.

She wasn't thinking about how this was a bad idea if she was hung up on somebody else and she wasn't thinking about how it wasn't fair to even think about saying yes for the same reasons. She was just completely caught up in the moment; the moment of someone liking her enough to ask her to Homecoming.

It was something Quinn would _never _do, that much Rachel was sure of.

"You want me to be your date to the dance tomorrow night?" she checked, still not quite able to believe it.

Her stunned excitement made Mike smile, "Yea . . .arrrghh-what-the-f. . .!"

The smile had been slapped from his face, his lips now making the frozen 'O' of the recently slushied as Quinn sauntered on by with an empty cup, straw still sticking out of the corner of her self-satisfied smirk. A shocked giggle burbled out of Rachel at her audacity and the downright jealousy on display.

"You set me up!" Mike yelled, humiliated as he scrubbed the raspberry-blue drink from his face with furious motions.

The giggle stuck, almost choking her. She was horrified by the accusation. "No, I didn't! I didn't know she was going to do that!"

"Yeah, right! Whatever. Just stay away from me!" he snapped before charging off to the nearest boy's bathroom.

"Mike!"

He ignored her. She turned on the spot, careful of the slushie near her feet.

"Quinn!"

The head Cheerio gave a little wave over her shoulder and then disappeared around the corner.

* * *

><p>Quinn was maybe the seventh person to arrive in the Choir room that day. Rachel would obviously arrive after her, because she'd left her gawking by the lockers a few minutes before.<p>

Fun times.

Finn and Puck were already there. Her boyfriend gave her a grin and eagerly patted the red chair beside him. Coach Sylvester's interruption hadn't dampened the high of their 'alone time' then, but what was he really thinking about things since her confession? Puck stared at her as she approached. The twist of his mouth was contemptuous but his dark eyes looked filled with angry pain. She ignored him and sat beside Finn, taking his hand in hers. She needed the comfort right now, today would be the first time she sang a solo in front of the entire Glee club.

Not to mention, you know, because of yesterday.

Several people glanced at her, Tina, Kurt, Mercedes, Matt and more, but none of them were actually brave enough to catch her eye so she settled for looking annoyed and ignored all of them too.

Santana suddenly slipped into the seat on her other side. "Heard Stubbles tried it on again today."

"Shut up, Santana!" Finn said without even looking at her.

The trouble-maker was ready to retort, until Quinn added to her supposed friend. "You heard him. Leave us alone."

Her grip tightened around Finn's hand when Rachel finally entered the room and whatever snarky thing Santana was saying faded out and was forgotten. It could have been dangerous, losing her attention so solely to Berry, but it wasn't like she was doing it consciously. It was just happening. Rachel was there and it was like, she couldn't help but look.

She wasn't the only one. Rachel's entrance, while silent apart from the click-clack of her shoes across the floor, was large enough to draw every eye in the room. The mix of petulant stomp and proud stride made most of the kids mutter irritably and roll their eyes but Quinn was impressed. Nearly everyone in the room, after yesterday, would have slunk in and made themselves as small as possible. They would have wanted to paint themselves red to blend into a chair. Rachel, without a word, made sure every one of them knew she was there and that she was staying; whether they liked it or not.

Quinn hadn't realized she'd been paying any more attention than anyone else though until Rachel marched right up to the chair in front of hers and they were locked in a staring match before Quinn could blink.

"You might want to be more careful about the way you look at me. People in this room have a habit of jumping to the wrong conclusion about things," Rachel's tone was cutting enough but her punchline was the stab in the back. "But they only need to get it right just _once_, Quinn, and then everything would be different."

Had she really just said that? In front of everyone? In friendlier times, and not spoken at such a high volume, it could have been a serious and well-intentioned warning. Not this time. The threat, while obscure, was heavily implied. Obviously the gloves were off. Fine. If Rachel wanted to play dirty, Quinn could oblige. This was her area of expertise after all.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Rachel, but I do know you need to stop speaking to me." She dropped her eyes from the other girl's. "It's making me uncomfortable."

The use of her given name and the vulnerable action of bowing her head was a double strike. She didn't have to see to know nearly every eye in the room hardened even further with varying degrees of disdain.

Rachel pursed her lips for a moment, shifting gears, before calmly volleying back, "Well, if I make you that uncomfortable, Quinn, you should have followed through on your decision to quit Glee Club. Or is this just more proof that you never actually mean what you say?"

"I mean what I say when it means something. You don't mean anything to me."

"I think we both know that's not entirely true, don't we Quinn!" Rachel lilted and then twirled around, crossed her arms and parked her ass firmly in the red chair she'd been leaning over.

Did that really just happen? From the nonplussed looks surrounding her, she'd say it had! The gloves _were_ off. Okay.

"Too close, Berry." Quinn planted her tennis shoe in the back of the chair, tipping it forward. "If I'm going to stay in Glee we need some ground rules. And the first one is you have to be out of touching range at all times."

If anyone registered the total turn-around from her meek attitude just a minute before they were keeping it to themselves.

Rachel had already turned indignantly. "_You_ touched me!" she snapped defiantly. Quinn smiled on the inside. "You kicked my chair!"

"Yes. To prove you were too close."

"Here's a radical idea: don't stay in Glee!"

"Sectionals is in what, six weeks? You're not going to find anyone else to join and learn all the routines, especially _It Takes Two _in that time."

"It's plenty of time!"

"Not once I black-list the club, it's not. I'll make sure no one dares come near this room. And, if you think the last few weeks have been hard for you all," she let her eyes travel over the ex-members of Team-Berry before looking back at Rachel. "Try it when I'm actively participating in taking you down."

Nobody questioned why she hadn't been before. Not even Santana. Oh, being on top was awesome. It got even better when others did her dirty work for her.

"So to keep twelve members and prevent our lives being made a misery," Mercedes checked slowly. "Rachel just has to stay away from you?"

"Yes. I think ten feet is fair. Twenty-five would be better obviously but I don't want to disrupt Glee too much." Rachel only rolled her eyes so she pushed a little harder. "And I don't want you looking at me, okay? Or talking to me unless I talk to you first."

Rachel was shaking her head now with a wry smile; struggling to believe that Quinn was listing their 'No looking, no talking, no touching' rule in front of everyone. At least she got it.

Quinn said with her eyes, '_Yes, I went there.' _

Rachel just rolled hers again.

"And obviously, no trying to kiss me anymore."

Rachel's eyes went wide.

'_And I went __**there**__.' _Could she get away with winking? No, that was pushing it. She risked a smirk though and it was worth it to see Rachel's eyes blaze and her mouth press into a tight-lipped grimace. '_Please be a sign that she's fighting her own smirk.'_

"Quinn," Finn cautioned quietly.

"What? She started it."

"Anyway, I think that's a reasonable request," Kurt decided on behalf of everyone. "Rachel, move."

"I will not. Quinn can move."

"I was here first."

"Just move down a few seats," Artie said.

"It's for the g-g-good of the c-club."

"No, it's ridiculous," Rachel barked at them all. "And I'm not going to be persecuted in this way. Also, if Quinn chooses to leave do not think you can lay the blame at my feet. It will be on her head and yours for giving her such power."

Santana sat forward. "I could just save us all some time and move you myself."

"Yeah, we could move you into the dumpsters behind the science block," Puck agreed. "You don't have a problem with dead mice and dissected frogs, right?"

Rachel went pale, there may even have been a gulp. Quinn remembered their conversation about veganism and animal rights and was quick to realize she had to take back control before Rachel started thinking she'd actually let that happen.

Santana got in one more shot. "Or, we could carry out some poetic justice."

"What do you mean?" Rachel was clearly way more scared of Santana than she was of Quinn because her voice trembled.

"I mean, we should lock you in a bathroom with that creepy little Jew-fro kid. He's as obsessed with you as you are with Q. You two could swap notes on stalking, if you can still speak with his tongue down your throat that is," Santana mused, faux-thoughtfully.

Rachel jumped from the chair and whirled around. She backed down a step to the floor, not trusting having her back to her Glee-mates anymore. Her eyes darted between Santana and Puck, not sure who to be more wary of, but eventually Quinn, in the middle, caught her eye. And _held_ it.

"No, I'm back in charge now," she said, voice cold but her eyes hopefully a little reassuring. "I'm going to say what happens next."

"And that is?" Rachel asked, with a smidgen of her previous defiance back.

"You do as I tell you from now on or I go and I take the rest of . . . " She rolled her eyes as she always did every time she said either lame name. ". . . Team-Fabray with me."

There were gasps from the peanut gallery – Team-Berry – plus a few comments from her supposed nearest and dearest.

"But I like singing and dancing at the same time."

"Shhh, Britt-Britt," Santana soothed. "We can sing and dance other places. It'll be okay."

"Uh, Quinn, I can't just walk out of Glee. I, we need that scholarship."

"Let's not pretend you were ever on Team Fabray . . ." Eye-roll. ". . . in the first place, Finn," she said as watched Rachel work through the implications. "And I think after what happened with Mike in the halls just before, he won't be back either."

Matt looked concerned, "What happened with Mike?"

"He asked Berry to be his _date _to Homecoming," she couldn't help sneering the word. "And she threw a slushie in his face. It was actually kind of hilarious to watch." She never took her eyes from Rachel.

"I did not do that! You threw the slushie. It was raspberry. They're the only flavor that make you feel better after you've been morning sick. You probably still have a blue tongue to prove it!"

It was a valiant effort at a comeback but it was thwarted by Puck.

"You know an awful lot of little details about a girl you're _not _stalking, Berry."

"And why would Quinn throw a slushie at Mike anyway," Brittany looked around for an answer. "He didn't ask _her_ to Homecoming. Which would make more sense really, because she's hotter, oh, but she's with Finn. I get it now."

Rachel didn't even blink at the insult. "Yes, I wonder why she would do that. Maybe that's something we should discuss as a group too."

Okay, Quinn was starting to regret indulging her desire to spar with her. Rachel's manic grin was a little too scary.

"How about we stick to what's important. Do you agree to my terms or do we leave you to find six new members before Sectionals?"

"No! I do not! In fact why don't you all just leave now? I get enough allowance to easily bribe six students from the Chess club, the Debate club or the Black Student Union to replace you and, let's face it, for the most part it wouldn't make any difference to our overall success."

Quinn glared at her for real now, but it was needless because it seemed nobody shared Rachel's faith in her ability to bribe _anyone_.

"For goodness sake, Rachel," Kurt snapped, "Just move already."

"Yeah, are you really gonna make all of us fail just because Quinn doesn't feel the same as you? Jeez, get over it, I had to with Kurt."

"Fine!" Rachel gave in with a theatrical wave of her arms. "Does anyone have a tape measure on them? I'd hate to destroy Glee Club by being an inch too close!"

Her sarcasm was washed out when Kurt actually produced one from his pocket.

"What?" he asked off of everyone's surprised looks. "I need to take up my new pants."

Rachel took it, looked at the rolled tape like she couldn't figure how she'd ended up in such a situation and then with a slight huff went into action. After one step towards Quinn she went back into inaction and huffed again.

"Could someone please go and hold this end next to Quinn's chair?"

Quinn smiled at her and then mentally slapped it into a smirk. Smirks were safe enough.

Tina took the proffered end, handed it back to Kurt, who handed it back to Brittany, who passed it off to Santana beside her. Santana offered it to Quinn with a grin. She was clearly loving this.

Quinn took the end lightly between finger and thumb and smirked straight at Rachel again, quirking an eyebrow, waiting to see what she would do.

"This is going too far," Finn whispered to her.

She was impressed he actually bothered to whisper. She knew she was pushing his promise to stay quiet to the limit right now.

"It's fine, honestly," she murmured back. "It'll be fine. I'll make it right later."

He didn't have to know how. She didn't really know how herself, but she figured thank you hugs and sniffing would feature heavily. Maybe even a kiss. This felt like more foreplay again after all. She really hoped Rachel felt the same.

Five feet had already been reeled out from where Rachel was standing. With another eye-roll, she started to walk away from her down the line of chairs.

"Uh, not this way!" Artie said quickly, making a shooing gesture with his hand. "I mean, there's so much more empty space the other way, you'll have more room to, uh, be further away."

Rachel looked like she'd been kicked while she was down. Quinn wondered where Jesus would place pushing Artie down the auditorium steps one day on the good and evil balance, considering the circumstances.

Mr. Schuester finally arrived – fifteen minutes late – as Rachel was determinedly marching to the other end of the risers, tape measure spooling out behind her. Ten feet took her to the very last but one chair at the bottom. It looked like miles away to Quinn. She should have said six feet.

"Sorry I'm late, guys. Sue cornered me on the way here. Looks like she'll be joining us next week as co-director after all." There were several groans from around the room at this news, but Mr Schue had finally spotted the weird scene before him and that took priority. "What are you doing, Rachel?"

She didn't beat around the bush. "Allowing myself to be emotionally blackmailed in order to ensure the future of the Glee Club. You can thank me any time you like."

"Okay, thank you. Why?"

Rachel sat down in the isolated chair and didn't answer.

His eyes seemed to find Quinn instinctively, even though he looked a little surprised to find her sitting there.

"I'm glad you came back, Quinn. It's good to have you here. But can you tell me why you and Rachel are holding a tape measure between you?"

She kept her face impassive. "We came up with a few ground rules while we were _waiting_ for you." She managed to make it sound like it was his fault. "To make us all more comfortable. One of them was . . . distance."

"I see." He looked like he wanted to say more but didn't. His eyes roamed the room for a moment. "No Mike? Okay, we'll catch him up tomorrow. Right, Coach Sylvester is joining us Monday, so we only have two more days to finish up this week's assignment and there's still quite a few who haven't gone, so let's get started. Who wants to go first?"

Quinn definitely didn't. She wasn't even sure of her song choice now after everything that had happened today. It had seemed so clear in the middle of the night, but now . . . maybe she should just do _Longshot _after all. It wasn't like anyone but Rachel would get it at this point anyway.

She was saved from having to decide right away by both Puck's and Rachel's hands going up. For once Mr. Schuester chose right.

"Rachel, why don't you go first?"

In a completely uncharacteristic move, that had Quinn worried, Rachel shook her head. "No, that's okay, I'll go after Noah."

"Are you sure?" The teacher sounded as surprised as everyone probably felt.

Rachel nodded and looked down at the floor.

"Okay. Puck, you're up."

He stepped down from his seat beside Finn and grabbed an acoustic guitar from where it had been propped against the wall.

"Okay, I know you said this was supposed to be a solo number or whatever, but me and Artie got to talking about what tracks we wanted to do and we kind of ended up putting this one together."

"In other words, he threatened me," Artie deadpanned as he rolled forwards and spun around to face the risers beside Puck.

"Uh, okay. What song is it and why does it mean something to you?"

"It's _Cryin',_"Puck slung his guitar strap over his shoulder. "And it means . . . I don't know, love's for suckers or something."

"It means nothing to me." Artie said, quickly distancing himself from Puck's opinion.

"Why don't you just . . ." Mr. Schuester waved his arm to hurry them along and Puck went with it; nodding his head at Artie as he counted them in before strumming the opening chords.

Artie took the first verse alone, his voice working the melody well, but then Puck joined in with the bridge and um, hello? Oh, God, _why_ was he looking at her?

"_All I want, is a love I can't resist! _

_I know, all I need to know,_

_By the way I got kiiiiissed!"_

He winked at her, he _actually _winked at her!

"_I was cryin' when I met you,_

_Now I'm trying to forget you._

_Your love is sweet misery . . ."_

And there was no mistaking that he was singing _to her_. Just what the fuck was he playing at?

Seriously, he was right? She wasn't the only one seeing it?

"_I was cryin' just to get you,_

_Now I'm dying cos I let you_

_Do what you do, down on meeeee!"_

As he dragged out the last word she felt her knees go weak, even though she was sitting down. She hated him, and this was clearly pay back for her harsh words earlier.

As Artie took the second verse Puck used the big gap between Rachel and everyone else to climb the risers, on the _chairs, _stepping over the backs until he was right in front of her and Santana. A side-eyed glance to the left showed that Santana was oblivious, simply lapping up the attention as Puck softly crooned,

"_We're partners in crime,_

_Yeah got that certain something_

_What you give to me, _

_Takes my breath away."_

Quinn breathed a sigh of relief, maybe she'd been mistaken, until . . .

"_Now the word out on the street, _

_Is the Devil's in your kiss._

_Now before,_

_Our love,_

_Goes up in flames,_

_It's a fire I can't resist!"_

There was no mistaking who Puck had been singing to then, especially not for Santana who was sitting right next to her!

"Asshole!" Santana stood and pushed him hard in the chest.

It was a miracle he didn't break his neck, but Puck had more lives than a cat and didn't even lose the beat as he was shoved backwards into the air. Landing on his feet he barely even staggered and his guitar strumming didn't falter and neither did his voice.

"_I was cryin' when I met you,_

_Now I'm trying to forget you . . ."_

It was awesome but it irked that his natural showmanship was so good. Quinn would have preferred for him to land on his ass and embarrass himself and no doubt Santana would have preferred that too.

"What the hell, Fabray?" she hissed.

As Quinn turned to defend her innocence, she caught Rachel's eye and her friend was forgotten. Rachel was staring back at her curiously, but as their eyes met Rachel mouthed back 'sorry' and turned to face the front again.

As Puck and Artie joined again for the final chorus, singing to Mercedes and Tina in the front row, Quinn breathed freely. She looked at Rachel. Rachel didn't turn around again. Maybe she'd just had enough hassle for one day or maybe she knew Puck had mostly been singing to Quinn and was upset about that. Either way, she kept her eyes squarely on the floor.

When the song was done everyone clapped – it had been a great performance after all – Quinn clapped a couple of times just for the look of it and Rachel did the same, her hands dropping to grip the edge of her seat as soon as she stopped.

The set of her shoulders looked nervous. Was it because she had to perform next? That was a new one.

"Okay, guys, that was great. I really felt the emotion in that. So, Rachel, are you ready to blow us away?" Mr Schue was obviously trying to build her up, Rachel just looked smaller than ever.

* * *

><p>"Of course." Rachel took her time standing up and making her way to the middle of the floor.<p>

She had been second-guessing her song choice for most of the afternoon. In the bathroom, while Quinn had been sleeping on her, she'd thrown it out completely. Afterwards, with the way Quinn had spoken to and about her when she'd been yelling at Noah, it had felt valid again. She'd gone back and forth through her last class, because did she _really _want to hammer that final nail into their coffin when Quinn _had almost _done the right thing?

But if _almost _was the best Rachel was ever going to get? Just look at what had happened in the past twenty minutes. Yes, she knew she'd started it, coming into the room and shooting some home truths at her for everyone to hear. And yes, she'd been able to tell Quinn had just been playing with her to 'teach her a lesson'. And she actually appreciated Quinn pulling rank on Santana and Noah when they were being mean to the extreme. _And _Quinn's smirk was dangerously alluring whatever the weather. All of that was true, but none of it swayed from the fact that while Quinn might be attracted to her on some levels - enough so to protect her physically - she obviously didn't care _enough_ about Rachel's feelings, if at all.

And that was all she'd needed to remember.

"Okay, Brad. When you're ready."

By the time the short piano intro was over most of the girls were already swaying in time, Quinn was not, she was just watching. Rachel started to sing.

"_I will not make the same mistakes that you did  
>I will not let myself<br>Cause my heart so much misery."_

She risked the quickest of glances at Quinn. She was still watching but her face was stoic. Rachel went back to staring at a random empty chair. It was the safest way.

_"I will not break the way you did,  
>You fell so hard<br>I've learned the hard way  
>To never let it get that far<em>

_Because of you_  
><em>I never stray too far from the sidewalk<em>  
><em>Because of you<em>  
><em>I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt<em>  
><em>Because of you<em>  
><em>I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me<em>  
><em>Because of you<em>  
><em>I am afraid."<em>

She let her eyes sweep everyone, catching as many eyes as she could, but not Quinn's. They were all listening to her, she could tell, she knew a hooked audience when she saw one, but none of them seemed to care about what she was saying through the song.

_"I lose my way_  
><em>And it's not too long before you point it out<em>  
><em>I cannot cry<em>  
><em>Because I know that's weakness in your eyes<em>  
><em>I'm forced to fake<em>  
><em>A smile, a laugh every day of my life."<em>

On that line Quinn met her eyes, there was nothing Rachel could do about it. She didn't know what it meant but she forced herself to not be the one that backed down while she continued.

_"My heart can't possibly break  
>When it wasn't even whole to start with<em>

_Because of you_  
><em>I never stray too far from the sidewalk<em>  
><em>Because of you<em>  
><em>I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt."<em>

Quinn was still looking into her eyes. And so Rachel felt justified in putting even more emotion into the rest of the chorus.

_"Because of you  
>I find it hard to trust not only me," <em>She slapped a hand to her chest. _"But everyone around me  
>Because of you<br>I am afraid."_

She was not looking away until Quinn did.

Quinn was not looking away.

_"I watched you die_  
><em>I heard you cry every night in your sleep<em>  
><em>I was so young<em>  
><em>You should have known better than to lean on me."<em>

She took a step closer to Quinn's seat without thinking about it. Quinn stiffened but still didn't look away. She might have even leaned forward a little bit.

_"You never thought of anyone else  
>You just saw <em>_**your**__ pain!"_

She saw Quinn flinch as she stabbed the lyrics at her, she actually saw it! Then the worse thing happened; Quinn got up and left the risers! Was she just going to leave like that? Yes, this was probably hard for her but . . . but didn't she know how rude it was to walk out in the middle of a performance?

Rachel's head had turned to follow her, but she wasn't going to let it be her undoing. With true showmanship she whipped her head back to the audience and belted out the next few lines with even more passion.

_"And now I cry in the middle of the night  
>For the same damn thiiiing."<em>

They might have all hated her right now but at least half a dozen people clapped when she held that note for so darn, perfectly long. The other half were watching Quinn leave. She must have been taking an awfully long time to do so.

That was good. She'd always intended to sing this next part _to _Quinn and she turned so that it would follow her out into the hallway (and hopefully continue following her for the rest of her life!) only for her eyes to be treated to the sight of Quinn stretching and bending by the wall.

What on Earth was she doing? Was this some form of sexual sabotage? Did Quinn think she could throw her off with a glimpse of well-muscled thigh and a flash of danger-red spanks? Oh, she had another think coming!

Rachel closed her eyes, clasped her chest and sang her heart and soul out to Quinn's rear-end.

_"Because of you_

_I try my hardest just to forget everything_

_Because of you__  
><em>_I don't know how to let anyone else in__  
><em>_Because of you__  
><em>_I'm ashamed of my life because it's empty__  
><em>_Because of you__  
><em>_I am afraid_

_Because of you._

_Because of you."_

As she let the last word trail away she was completely overwhelmed by the applause that followed. It wasn't a standing ovation or anything but at least seven out of the eleven Glee Clubbers present were clapping like they meant it.

Rachel bowed her head in appreciation, and because it allowed her to side-eye Quinn's bottom as she touched her toes at the side of the room. Was she warming up for Cheerios training early?

"That was awesome," Brittany coo'ed.

"Thank you," she beamed, forgetting about Quinn long enough to accept her praise.

"It really was, Rachel," Mr Schuester said, giving her a bright smile. "But you never told us why that particular song was important to you."

"I'd like to think the song spoke for itself."

"Can you be a little clearer?"

Was he being deliberately stupid?

"Well, I . . ."

"Okay, I'm bored." Quinn stalked into the center of the room and turned to the glare at the teacher with one hand on her hip. "Can I sing now?"

"Oh, um, yeah, of course, Quinn."

"I was speaking!"

"Nobody cares, Dwarf!"

"I prefer it when you call me Gnome," she said petulantly as she made her way back to her seat.

Quinn glanced at her for the smallest second as they passed. "That's only because you think it's some kind of pet name for you."

And she had and now she'd ruined it. Or Quinn had ruined it. One of them definitely had.

Mr Schuester tried to diffuse the tension. "Why don't you just sing, Quinn?"

"Yes, why don't I." The blonde took her music to Brad, spoke to him quietly for a minute and then came to stand in the center of the room. She looked nervous, like really, and Rachel wanted nothing more than to give her some words of encouragement.

"You're going to do great, Quinn, just focus and . . . _feel_ it."

She never had been good at keeping her words to herself.

Quinn didn't answer, or smile, she seemed to be really focused on her breathing. Wow, she really was nervous, but as Brad started to play, she saw Quinn's lips move.

_Thanks, Gnome._

And then she was singing.

_"Hearts b-break too fast when they're, ah, s-sentimental_

_W-won't stay, won't last when it's love at f-first sight."_

Rachel recognized the song – she was pretty sure she knew intimately every song Kelly Clarkson had ever recorded now – but Quinn, who could sing so sweetly most of the time was _not _doing it justice. She _ached _to stand up and say something, to help, but she didn't dare, not when it was Quinn. Her ego was just so fragile sometimes.

Thankfully Quinn was no idiot and raised her hand as she stopped singing. As the piano stopped a bar later, she said, "Sorry, that was terrible. Can I start again?"

Mr. Schuester nodded and Quinn glanced at Brad, who also nodded and played the intro again. He had to play it _twice_ but then Quinn was off!

_"Hearts break too fast when they're sentimental_

_Won't stay, won't last when it's love at first sight_

_So why are my convictions blinded by your spotlight  
>Can't breathe, can't sleep<br>Need some medication  
>I've kissed goodbye to my reservations<br>I know there's other fish out in the seas  
>Not for me<br>I want you."_

In contrast to how their eyes had been locked together through-out most of Rachel's solo, Quinn hadn't glanced at her once yet while she sang. That wasn't to say her eyes weren't busy, they bounced around nearly everyone else in the 'audience', with Finn racking up the highest number of hits.

But then, she wasn't standing still as Rachel had – letting her voice steal the show. No, Quinn was dancing to the music, the choreography tight enough that it had obviously been practiced several times beforehand. Amid a sea of feelings, intrigue was cresting the highest waves; surfing on the back of delight.

Watching so closely, it would have been hard to miss the nod to Brittany as the chorus opened. Rachel would have assumed it pre-planned – due to the instant compliance – if she hadn't recognized the pleading light in Quinn's eyes. The decision had clearly been made on the fly, but as the tall, leggy cheerleader jumped down from the risers and watched Quinn for half a second before emulating her dance style, it had also clearly been a good one.

"If I can't have you  
>Then I don't want anyone<br>I don't want anyone  
>If I can't have you<br>Then only damage has been done, baby."

With her best friend already supporting Quinn, Santana must have felt the need not to be left out, because suddenly she was taking big strides down to join them. Rachel caught Quinn raising her eyebrows in askance, but Santana just shoulder-checked her amiably and fell into step with Brittany, slightly behind Quinn but not so much to lose all of the center-stage feeling.

She knew Quinn should be her main focus, and she was mostly, but Rachel couldn't help but marvel over how all three Cheerios danced so well together. The synchronicity they were capable of in an un-rehearsed routine was enviable and Rachel knew that, whatever their differences, she couldn't realistically afford to lose any of them before Sectionals.

* * *

><p>Quinn was in the moment now, giving her full focus to the song. She'd been so nervous to begin with she'd struggled to get started but now the lyrics were flowing as effortlessly as her dancing.<p>

_"We can break these rules  
>If you wanna have some fun<br>If you wanna have some fun  
>Think of all the love that you will lose<br>If I can't have you  
>If I can't have you."<em>

When she'd been writing down the lyrics and rehearsing over and over again, the second verse had given her pause. It was kind of . . . suggestive. Deep down she felt every word, and on a personal level she was fine with it – she wouldn't be trying to so hard to get Rachel to come around if she wasn't – but what if _anybody else_ figured out how literal the lyrics were to her? What if she caught Rachel's eye at a wrong moment and somebody saw it (it would be hard to miss now that Rachel was sitting so alone) and put it all together? What if . . .?

It was too late to worry about it now, the second verse was upon her.

_Heartbeat cold sweat  
>Thoughts slippin' under<br>Can't fight no threat  
>'Cause there's just no use<br>One look, no hesitation I'm slipping into you  
>Forgive these eyes, these lips you're tastin'<br>No time to waste on an invitation  
>My shame, my self-control has suffered enough<br>And everybody wants to be loved."_

It had happened. In those last few lines she'd made eye-contact with Rachel. She couldn't even pretend it was an accident, although it hadn't been planned. Her reward for taking the risk was the sight of Rachel sitting forward in her chair, beaming and bright-eyed, too engrossed to even sway in time to the music. Quinn took one last risk, winking at her as she sang about being loved, and then snapped her eyes to the safety of the back wall as the music launched immediately into the chorus.

"_If I can't have you  
>If I can't have you<br>I haven't seen the best that love has had to offer  
>They say perfection's always right around the corner<br>Could be true  
>But if I can't have you<em>

_If I can't have you . . ."  
><em>

It was over before she knew it and the nerves and adrenaline had turned into euphoria. She was buzzing as she received her applause, one as enthusiastic as Rachel's. She'd have thought it was just pandering, if she wasn't so sure it was simply Rachel and Finn's clapping combined that made it sound so spectacular.

"That was wonderful, Quinn, really." Mr. Schue clapped too. "Your pitch was great, you're lyrics clear. I think you've found your zone."

Brittany gave her shoulders a one-armed hug and ran back to her seat with Santana following with a begrudgingly impressed half-smile.

"Can you tell us why that song was important to you?"

"Yes." She actually saw Rachel hold her breath at the question, but Quinn already had a flippant response on the tip of her tongue. "Obviously it's my ode to becoming Homecoming Queen tomorrow night." She smiled sweetly around as she strolled back to her seat. "I hope I can count on all of your votes."

"After a performance like that," Artie began as he turned around to smile at her, only to catch a less friendly eye on the way. ". . . Although Santana's dancing was A-list too," he hurriedly added and turned back to face the front.

Once they were all seated, Mr. Schuester clapped his hands together. "Okay, I know it's twenty minutes early, but let's call it day. Principal Figgins's wants Coach Sylvester and I to draw up a joint lesson plan by five 'o' clock and seeing as I'm expecting her to sabotage us every step of the way I want to get a jump on my side. Really great performances today though. I look forward to seeing Matt, Kurt and Brittany sing tomorrow." As everyone began to leave he stopped Matt on his way to the door. "And if there's any way you can get Mike to come back?"

Matt nodded, "I'll try."

Everyone else left as quickly as usual, but Quinn had no desire to rush around. The singing, the dancing, the applause . . . it had made her feel amazing at the time, but now the moment was over her stomach was rolling. The baby was probably still going round and round in there. There was no urgent need to run to the nearest bathroom – thankfully – she just needed a minute of calm so she strolled to the piano to collect the sheet music she'd given the piano man earlier.

A shadow fell over her while she was standing there. She half-expected it to be Puck, back for another go. That boy really was too thick-headed for his own good. It wasn't him; Finn stood beside her with an easy smile on his face, backpack slung casually over his shoulder. He really was perfect high school sweetheart material when he looked at her like that. Right now, unfortunately, it was doing nothing for her. She pursed her lips, waiting for him to explain why he was hovering.

"So, I have extra football practice now, Coach wants us sharp for the Homecoming game tomorrow, but I'm free after."

She should hope so. Her eyes narrowed, wondering why he was telling her things she already knew.

Sensing he'd somehow already made a mess of whatever he was trying to do, Finn hastened on. "So I was thinking that's when we could do something."

Do something? Do what exactly? "I'm busy," she said, the perfect catch-all.

"But earlier, you said . . ."

Ohhh. The kiss in the corridor. Now it made sense. She laughed to lighten the blow she was about to deliver. "Sweetie, _earlier _I was caught up in the moment, but you know I don't make a habit of kissing on school grounds." Unless you name is Rachel Berry, she sassed herself. "Save it for the weekend, okay?"

"But this morning," he tried again, looking at her like _she _was the idiot. "You said you wanted to hang out tonight."

Oh. He was talking about a different kiss. With everything that had happened today she had forgotten the way she'd thrown herself at him to make Rachel jealous. She felt bad about that now, but was more preoccupied with how she was going to let him down. It would have to be gently. She'd been running too hot and cold with him lately as it was.

He was still speaking, ". . . if you don't want to go to mine, it's cool. I have some money left from my allowance so we can go to Breadstix. It's not like I'm only interested in you for your body," he joked with a playful smirk.

Under normal circumstances that probably would have made her laugh, but as Rachel suddenly appeared on her other side the circumstances were anything but normal.

"Finn," she mildly snapped, wondering how she should play things.

Should she encourage the boy? To let Rachel see what she was missing. Or shoot him down so Rachel had no cause to get irritated with jealousy. It was a tough call, both could lead nowhere which would be unhealthy for her already overwhelmed state of mind.

Rachel wasn't helping, standing so close their elbows were touching while pretending that neither of them existed. Finn wasn't helping either with the way he was staring at her like she'd just slapped his face and screamed instead of saying his name with slight impatience.

Really he ruined it for himself when he said, "But it was your idea. You said you didn't care what we did tonight as long as we did it together."

She was still staring daggers at his confused puppy face when Rachel piped up.

"Oh, does that mean there's another Celibacy club meeting tonight? I'll be sure to attend. Should I bring my own balloon?"

Laughter burst from Quinn before she could clamp down on it.

"No, Quinn provides those," Finn assured her, trying to be helpful.

"Okay. Do you go through a lot of them then, Quinn?"

"_No_, she doesn't! That last one popped because of my zipper, I swear."

Did he really think he was coming to her rescue? Quinn had her teeth clenched together now but a giggle was tickling her throat. She had to get rid of him fast. Or Rachel. _One _of them had to go! If she had to _choose _though . . .

"Finn, you're going to be late for football practice. Go now and text me when you're done. If I'm feeling okay we'll go out."

"Why wouldn't you . . .?" his brain kicked on before she had to shout at him. "The baby, right. Okay. We can go see a movie if you're not up for Breadstix. Whatever you want." She just nodded to get him moving faster. "Okay." He dropped a peck on her lips before she even had a chance to decide if she was going to let him kiss her goodbye. Pulling his backpack further up over his shoulder, he stepped back and addressed Rachel. "Hey, I'm sorry about yesterday. If you still wanna be friends . . . that's cool, I guess." Catching sight of the Choir room clock, he said, "Shit, Coach Tanaka is gonna make me run laps! I'll call you," he promised Quinn and then he was running out of the door.

"Never a dull moment," Quinn sighed.

"What was that about?" Rachel asked.

"Football practice?" Quinn turned to check out the rest of the room. It was empty. "I've got a better question, what was _that _about? The Celibacy club stuff?"

"I was just making innocent conversation about a common subject," Rachel (probably) fibbed. "Now back to my question . . ."

The piano player – who had been so quiet so far he'd been as good as invisible – interrupted Rachel to confirm an apparently pre-scheduled one-on-one rehearsal the following day and then excused himself.

Quinn cocked an eyebrow in askance and Rachel scowled. "It's exactly as it sounds. He plays for me a couple of times a week. I'm not sleeping with him, and it has no impact on his impartiality when it comes to Glee club performances."

She huffed out a laugh. "Okay, Miss Overshare. I just remember you saying he was practically glued to his piano stool twenty-four seven."

"Perhaps he needs to pee," Rachel shrugged. "Everyone needs to pee sometimes."

Nose wrinkling, Quinn nodded to concede that and then sought out a subject change away from piano player's urination habits. Luckily Rachel had already provided one.

"You were asking about the apology?" Quinn smiled, knowing this was about to win her some Brownie points. "I may have told him the truth about Tuesday."

"You did?" Rachel started off excited, but it was quickly tempered. "The whole truth?"

"_Gnome, _do you really think he would still want a date tonight if I'd told him the _whole _truth? I just told him you didn't really try and kiss me. That you were just in there to avoid a confrontation with Santana – which is why she's mad at us both – and I explained I only went along with it because Santana was playing dirty and that I feel bad about it now."

"Okay." Rachel was smiling and it made Quinn feel bold.

"So are we good now?" she asked with a smile of her own.

"That depends, are you ready to tell everyone else the same thing?"

She hesitated because, _no!_ Rachel picked up on it.

"We're not good yet, but we are better though."

"That was a big deal for me!" Quinn griped, slapping the polished surface of the piano.

"It's a big deal for me too. Don't think I don't appreciate it, Quinn, Finn knowing is great. But it still leaves ninety-nine percent of Glee club thinking I did something wrong!"

On that point there was no room for her to argue, so she didn't even try. "I know, I'm sorry."

"But not sorry enough to do anything about it."

"That's not true! Didn't you listen to my song?"

"Yes. It was a beautiful ode to your hopes of becoming the Homecoming Queen."

"It wasn't about that and you know it!"

"Yes! But nobody else does!"

"Rachel, I'm trying here!" Taking a deep breath to calm down, she added. "I'll work on the rest, okay, but for right now could you cut me a little slack? Surely baby steps are better than _no _steps?"

"I guess," Rachel agreed slowly.

Quinn nodded, pleased to make some headway. "So I think I deserve a reward, don't you?"

Rachel finally smiled again. "Do you? What reward did you have in mind?"

"Well, I have to be at Cheerios practice in like . . ." she checked the clock. Wow, didn't time fly when you were having fun. ". . . Fifteen minutes, but once I'm done I could come over to yours?"

"To hang out?" Rachel asked with a smirk.

"Yeah." Quinn didn't really get the smirk, until she remembered the definition of 'hanging out' she'd given Rachel on Tuesday. "Um, is that something you'd want?"

"Less pleasantries, more making out? Is that what _you _want?"

Quinn didn't trust herself to actually say words out loud to that, but nodding was easy enough (if anything it was stopping the nodding that was difficult).

"I'd like that too . . . but not until you've cleared my name."

"Oh, come on!" It felt like that mysterious, enticing door was opening again and she wasn't going to let it slam shut in her face a second time. "I'll clear your name later!"

"I don't believe you."

"I promise!" Quinn stepped further into Rachel's personal space and repeated softly, "I promise."

She could already tell she'd taken Rachel's breath away, even before the gasp of: "You really promise?"

"I promise," she said a third time and leaned in.

Rachel took a half-step back, closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again, bit her lip, and took a half-step forward. That was a green light if ever she'd seen one. As she dipped her head Rachel arched up to meet her in a kiss that was chaste and just lips and yet felt needy and wanton at the same time. In a melty daze she brought her hands up to cup the back of Rachel's head, discouraging her from breaking this perfect moment too fast. That seemed to be the last thought on Rachel's mind as she wrapped her arms around Quinn, hands splayed across her lower back and feeling so good.

"Quinn?"

Rachel hadn't said that! But she pulled away fast, an 'Oh shit!' look in her eyes. It filtered through to Quinn's brain, too fast and too slow at the same time, the voice was Brittany's. It was coming from the door. She'd just been caught kissing Rachel.

She pushed without meaning to. Her palms pushed at Rachel's shoulders and she'd only wanted to force a few inches, feet, whatever, of distance between them but she hadn't realize how close to the piano stool they were.

The words were already escaping from her mouth. "How many times do I have to tell you, Treasure Trail! I'm not interested!"

Rachel was already falling over the stool. She was on the floor beside it by the time Quinn had finished speaking.

"Is everything okay? Did Rachel do something bad again?" Brittany asked from somewhere behind her.

"_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,"_ she chanted silently to Rachel but she already knew it wasn't enough.

"_Tell her no!" _Rachel mouthed back, still on the floor.

But she couldn't, because Brittany had just seen them kissing? She couldn't admit to that.

"_I'm sorry,"_ she mouthed again. "Berry was just trying her luck again, Britt, no big deal."

She couldn't take back what she had just done and she couldn't come clean to _Brittany _of all people, could she? But thankfully her body was better at doing the right thing than her mind was and she instinctively reached down, grabbed Rachel's hand and pulled her back to her feet.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" she checked before putting some spin on it. "Wow, I knew my lips were good, but I didn't know they were _that _good. Maybe you should think twice before you try and kiss me next time, Berry. We wouldn't want you to fall over again, would we?"

Rachel smoothed the back of her skirt down and shot her a look. "Oh, I'll be sure to, Quinn. _We _wouldn't want me to make the mistake of kissing you again, would _we_? I'm done now, Quinn, I promise. You don't have to worry about me pestering you _ever _again."

Oh God, she meant it! Quinn could see it in her eyes. She _really _meant it!

Quinn watched, speechless and helpless as Rachel collected her bag and left the room. She wanted to call after her, no scream after her, to not do this, to not end them, but Brittany was standing right there between them and she couldn't do it.

"Is everything okay, Q?" Brittany sounded concerned and dubious and accusing at the same time and she couldn't take it.

"I'm fine, just getting sick of Stubbles trying to stick her tongue down my throat."

"Then why do you keep letting her?"

Quinn blinked several times. "Why are you here?"

"Coach asked me to come find you. She wants to see you in her office."

"Okay."

"Q, what's going on? With you and Rachel?"

"Nothing!" she snapped, and then the tears came. Her eyes were too wet to see Brittany approach but when comforting arms curled around her she reluctantly folded into them. "Nothing will _ever_ be going on between me and Rachel!"

"You made a mess, huh?"

Quinn nodded against her shoulder, but then sniffed hard and straightened up. How embarrassing was that? Of all the people to break down in front of . . . Well, there was worse, but still.

"Sorry, I'm okay now. What does Coach want?"

"She didn't say." Brittany used a thumb to clean up some missed tears from her cheeks. "Hey, Quinn?"

"Yes?" she snivelled.

"You know how Santana and I have lady-sex sometimes?"

"Britt!"

"I'm just saying, it's doesn't make you evil or anything. God loves everyone, except for murderers and cat haters obviously."

"Thanks, Britt." Quinn wiped the last few escaping tears from her eyes. "Has my make-up run?"

"Totally. You look like a sad Panda."

She giggled wetly, in a world of confusion it was nice to know she could always at least count on Brittany to tell it how it was.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading. The songs were: <em>Cryin', Because of you,<em> and _If__ I can't have you. _Like I said, check them out :)


	42. Falling either side of the line

Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter. Apologizes to those I promised this would be up last week.

**Chapter Forty-two: Falling Either Side of the Line.**

All Rachel could think about that night was the pain in her heart, caused by the nose against her neck, those lips on her skin, Quinn's voice in her ear.

It tortured her. It made her cry, it made her want to die.

She thought over their conversations, every single one of them, but mostly their last and it churned within her, burned her, made her feel _too much_ but she couldn't stop it.

She hated her, she hated her, she hated her . . . she _wanted _her, so badly.

It wasn't even physical, or not solely, she just needed Quinn in her life, she needed to be something to her, she needed to be _something_ to Quinn, but she never would be. She'd never count, she'd never be more than a dirty secret. Part of her wanted to be okay with that, she really wanted to be, but she wasn't.

She could be hidden, but she couldn't be ridiculed. She could be on the side-lines but she couldn't be nothing. She could keep their feelings close to her chest but she couldn't be pushed in it to force her away.

She hated her.

She wanted her.

And she sought for middle ground.

What did she do?

* * *

><p>Quinn cried into her pillow, and then she got angry and screamed into her pillow, and then she mixed the two and screamed through angry tears.<p>

Why did everything have to be so stupid?

Why couldn't she just want what she had? Why couldn't she just have what she wanted? Why did they have to be different things?

She'd checked Rachel's Myspace page over and over, had stared like a hawk at her Facebook chat box, and had sent three of Finn's calls straight to voicemail.

She was losing it, at a time when she really couldn't afford to because she was already losing it over so much other stuff already. She didn't know what to do though, there was nothing she could do, and _God_ she felt so sick!

She spent the whole night hovering over the toilet, nothing came up but that made it worse.

She needed Rachel. She _needed _Rachel, She needed _Rachel_.

But Rachel hated her.

* * *

><p>When the following morning dawned far too early and <em>Break My Stride <em>blasting from her iPod dock threw her eyes open wide, Rachel sat up in bed like Dracula. Her entire night had been spent tossing and turning and it had caught and tangled the sheets around her body, she swung her legs out of bed like an Egyptian Mummy. Sleep deprived and mind-weary but with a morning routine ingrained since the start of Freshman year, she walked to the elliptical like a zombie.

This was it, Quinn had actually killed her but by some torturous plan of the universe she'd been left in her body to experience every painful second of it. She was Rachel Berry, Undead.

Halfway through her workout her body and brain woke up a little, enough to allow some emotion other than disappointment to seep in.

Anger. She could work with anger. Anger would get her through this. Anger would drive her, rage would build her strength back up and the fury would make her invincible to those fallacious charms in the future. Quinn was a dead woman walking, metaphorically of course. She wasn't going to know what hit her until she rolled her crumpled heap of a life over and saw the rear lights of Rachel's life speeding away.

Rachel could ruin her now, do to Quinn exactly as Quinn had done to her and make her school life a living hell. She held all the cards. She knew all of Quinn's secrets. _She _had the power!

And by Barbra, by the end of the day Quinn Fabray was going to rue the day she'd pushed Rachel Berry over a piano stool to save her ridiculous reputation.

* * *

><p>After a night spent praying to both the porcelain god and the real one between fitful naps on the bathroom floor, Quinn felt . . . well, honestly, like crap. But she had a plan. It was fool proof, and it was going to make Rachel forgive her . . . because Rachel <em>had<em> to forgive her.

There was no question about it. She was Quinn Fabray and if she wanted someone to forgive her then they did, that was the way the world worked.

Her plan was very straight-forward, she was going to breeze right through this like they hadn't been caught yesterday, like she hadn't sent Rachel flying over a stool in an effort to disguise what they'd been doing, and that she'd then lied about her again. She wasn't stupid though, she knew Rachel wouldn't just let it go that easily, but she was going to sweeten the deal with herself. She was going to give Rachel what she wanted, she was going to be her _girlfriend_ . . . whenever she could catch her alone anyway. A few hours of seeing what she could be missing out on and Rachel would totally forgive her and everything would be okay again.

It was the perfect plan!

At least, after three days of high anxiety and three nights of abysmal sleep it _seemed _like the perfect plan.

Setting her plan in motion she sent Rachel a private message through Facebook. She knew Rachel checked her account in the mornings because she nearly always made status updates about her hopes for the coming day. Hopefully Quinn's message wouldn't arrive too late.

_I'd like to give you a ride to school today. It will give me time to apologize and you time to yell and refuse to accept it ;) I'm going to take your silence as a yes, so I'll see you at 7.45._

She read it back, breathed through the urge to delete it and forget the whole idea, and then hit send.

* * *

><p>By the time she'd finished her work out and showered, Rachel had worked through the anger. Not all of it, she was still angry, but she knew she was never going to do anything to upset Quinn's life. She just couldn't be that vindictive, as much as she wanted to be.<p>

Rachel had always had a sixth sense about certain things, places, people . . . she was practically an empath in fact, and it gave her an insight that other, less aware (or less obsessed) people missed. Quinn was just scared and apparently a scared Quinn was not very nice and a little bit pathetic when it came right down to it, but Rachel wouldn't hold that against her. Instead she would rise above it, something she'd been doing long before their animosity became attraction and so she had plenty of practice.

She would do as she'd originally intended earlier this week, or was it last week, or the week before that – their roller-coaster had been going so fast and had had so many twists and bends it was difficult to tell now when things had been good and when they'd been bad. But once upon a time in the not so distance past she'd made up her mind to walk away and not look back – Quinn had managed to change her mind at some point but now Rachel was filled to the brim with extra resolve.

Rachel _was_ walking away and was _not_ looking back!

She was determined!

Determined to be more than a dirty little, easy-pushover (pun not intended!) secret.

And if Quinn wanted to change her mind again? Well, she'd have to work a heck of a lot harder for it this time.

Middle ground, she'd found it. She wasn't at peace with it yet, but hopefully that would come with time . . . and distance.

She'd just finished looking at the latest photos of Lulu and was about to log out of Facebook and head downstairs for breakfast when she noticed a tiny number 1 beside her PM icon. It made her pause, because no one had ever sent her a private message before and her first thought was _'Oh my goodness, I have a computer virus!' _but curiosity was her weak spot so she clicked anyway.

Anger re-flared as she read it but the corner of her lips quirked up in a half-smile too as she slowly shook her head in disbelief and shut down the computer.

"Yes, you're going to have to try _a lot_ harder than that!"

Bounding down the stairs with her book bag swinging wildly over her shoulder, she called out to her parent in the kitchen.

"Dad, can we leave early today? I need to speak to a teacher about something before class."

* * *

><p>Quinn felt like a spy, and a bad one at that, as she drove to Rachel's house. She couldn't shake the feeling she was being tailed and kept checking her mirrors to see if Santana or Finn or Puck's cars' were behind her.<p>

She knew she was going to have to stop the crazy when she picked Rachel up. It wasn't going to make a very good impression if she was being so obvious in her discomfort. Maybe arriving at school together was a bad idea. There was no maybe about it, it was insane, but she'd offered now and she couldn't not show up. It would be okay. She'd park at the back of the lot, away from her usual coveted spot, and Rachel wasn't cruel, she'd understand why they couldn't actually walk in together.

It would be okay.

She pulled on to Rachel's cul-de-sac a few minutes later, fists clenching and un-clenching around the steering wheel with nerves. Even if it felt like the right thing to do she knew the ride to school wasn't going to be pleasant. There would probably be shouting and stuff.

She couldn't pull straight into the driveway because there was a car backing out – one of Rachel's Dad's going to work? – so she waited on the side of the road for it to be clear. Her eyes went wide when she saw Rachel sitting in the passenger seat!

Damn, she hadn't gotten her message after all. It was always a possibility, but she'd assumed that by showing up this early she'd catch her anyway.

She was about to honk her horn, it wasn't too late for Rachel to switch cars when, without looking away from talking to her Dad, Rachel discreetly held her middle finger up to the passenger window.

Quinn stalled her car as she gaped.

Rachel-_freaking-_Berry had just flipped her the bird!

She craned her neck around in disbelief to watch the stationwagon pull out of the street. Rachel obviously _had_ received her message and she'd just shown her appreciation of it.

As Quinn restarted her car and performed a three-point turn with the aid of the Berry's driveway she started laughing.

* * *

><p>"Wasn't that Quinn's car?" LeRoy asked as he pulled onto the main road.<p>

"Quinn who, Dad?" Rachel hid her smirk in the palm of her hand.

She'd never flipped anyone off before. It was tremendously pleasing that Quinn was her first.

* * *

><p>Quinn hit the gas station on the way to school and spent nearly fifteen dollars on phase two of the plan.<p>

* * *

><p>Being earlier than usual was beneficial and Rachel would have to remember it. There were very few students waiting on the front steps and none that actively hated her right now.<p>

The halls were equally empty-ish, with only a few people already at their lockers. One was Kurt, just across from her, but he didn't acknowledge her at all. She thought about approaching him and forcing a conversation because, even though she hadn't done anything wrong, she felt like she'd let him down the most with her recent secrecy. She knew he was scared about being out to the whole school (not that it had ever been a secret to anyone but him) and she wasn't scared in the slightest about _that_. She could help him, they could help each other. But his attitude had always been dismal towards her and she couldn't forget yet how he'd turned on her so easily with everyone else.

So she ignored the impulse to reach out and went to her own locker instead. Once she'd left the books she didn't need until later and taken the books she needed now, she dithered in front of it, straightening folders, realigning the mirror on the door, just killing time.

She shouldn't have. She killed too much time. She'd forgotten Quinn would be right behind her.

"Hi."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"So just listen."

"Kurt is right there," she whispered, although why she was trying to protect the blonde she didn't know.

"I'm not an idiot, I waited until he'd gone."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry."

"Whatever."

"Don't whatever me!"

"Quinn, I'm not interested in your apologies. I told you yesterday, I'm over this."

"Yes, well I don't accept that."

Rachel looked at her for the first time, annoyed. "I don't care what you accept. I am through being humiliated by you."

Quinn sighed, clearly trying to keep her patience, and then started fumbling – fumbling? Was she nervous? – with the zipper of her bag. "I have something for you."

"I don't want it."

Slamming her locker shut, she walked away quickly before she could give in.

* * *

><p>Quinn rolled her eyes as Rachel diva-stormed away from her. This was already getting annoying, but it was worth it, or it <em>would<em> be worth it in the end, right?

Finally getting her bag open – it wasn't normally that difficult but her hands were shaking – she bypassed the 'gift' and pulled out her nail file instead. With a stealthy look around she set about picking Rachel's lock.

Once the door sprung open, she placed the gift carefully inside – she'd already written on the card in her car – and then closed the locker securely again.

* * *

><p>Rachel had picked up her Chemistry book instead of her Biology book so she had to make a quick stop at her locker between first and second period. She gasped when she opened the door.<p>

She hadn't put _those _in there!

A bunch of flowers was lying in wait, a generic bouquet but the red and yellow blooms were beautiful just the same.

She started to pull them out for a closer look but the hallway was crowded and Rachel Berry finding flowers in her locker would draw attention so she settled for pressing her face deeper into the metal box to inhale their scent. It was gorgeous, _they _were gorgeous, and she couldn't help her smile.

With her head still half in her locker she spotted the card and pulled it free to read it.

_I really am sorry._

_Forgive me? x_

No one had ever bought her flowers before. Another Quinn-first.

She tucked the card back and switched her books around before closing the door. Hopefully the flowers could live without water until the end of the day. Even though she knew she should stuff them into the nearest trash can she was going to take them home, put them in the most beautiful vase she could find and then love them until they died.

As irritating as it was, she couldn't do anything but.

Rachel turned to walk to Biology. Quinn was at her locker! She hadn't been there a moment ago. It was okay, she would just walk right by her. She could pretend she hadn't just found the most beautiful flowers ever in her locker. She needed to.

Quinn caught her eye as she walked by and smiled. At her. In the crowded _hall_. It looked hopeful? Nervous? Smug? All of the above?

Rachel ignored her completely.

'_You have to do better than that too, Quinn Fabray!'_

* * *

><p>Quinn growled low in her throat as Rachel walked by like she wasn't even there. This was going to be harder than she thought.<p>

"Did a wasp just sting your ass or something?"

Her head whipped to the right. "Not now, Santana!"

"Damn, what's your beef this time, Q? Don't tell me you're still strung out on the Hobbit?" Santana spread her arms wide, almost pleadingly. "Look, whatever Manhands was doing for yours and Finn's spawn I'm sure I can do it better. Just get over it already!"

Quinn laughed, because the very idea of Santana doing what Rachel had been doing . . . Just, no.

"She was being supportive," she found herself saying. "Can you be that?"

"I don't know." Santana looked pained by the very notion. "I guess I can maybe try."

"Don't strain yourself, San."

* * *

><p>Rachel spent recess where she usually did, in the Choir room. Sometimes other members of Glee were in there too, to practice songs or routines, but today it was empty, not even Brad was there.<p>

She was pleased because she needed the break. First and second period had been much like yesterday, with everyone who thought they were in the know alternating between glaring daggers at her and ignoring her presence completely. Only Finn had been friendly, stopping by her lab bench to talk about breakfast snacks before Biology began. She wasn't sure why he assumed she had an interest in his love of POP-tarts, especially after the face he pulled at her mere mention of a nutritionally-healthy fruit salad, but she appreciated the gesture all the same.

Everyone else's attitudes, well of course it hurt, but Rachel didn't care. They didn't know the truth, they didn't know what had really happened between her and Quinn. So let them stare obnoxiously, let them judge her, if they weren't her friends anyway then why should it mean anything to her?

Or was that just Quinn's opinion rubbing off on her?

Speaking of the devil. A blonde head poked through the door, checking left and right. Rachel wanted to call out that they were alone but she wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. In fact she wanted someone else to walk in right now so they wouldn't be alone.

Come on, Brad! Where are you?

Once Quinn had decided it was safe she walked in. Rachel was a little alarmed (and, unfortunately, a little turned on) to see her lock the door after her.

"I'm leaving the key in the lock. You can go whenever you want," Quinn said as she slowly walked closer. "Just don't steal my key when you do, please."

Rachel ducked her head to hide her smile.

"I just wanted us to have some privacy."

She rolled her eyes. "'Cause Heaven forbid someone might walk in on me turning your apology down."

"I'm not proud of what I did yesterday."

"Okay, say I do accept your apology, Quinn." Rachel straightened her shoulders as she threw down her challenge. "If I kissed you now and someone walked in, what would you do?"

"The door's locked, no one can walk in."

"But if they could?"

Quinn had walked to within two feet of her now. "Then I guess I would have something else to apologize for. But right now, nobody can walk in, so there's nothing stopping you from kissing me."

Rachel would be lying if she said her blood didn't rush a little faster, a little warmer, at the idea, but she still had her resolve.

"I'm never kissing you again."

"Okay." Quinn walked passed her to take a seat on one of the chairs. "Did you like the flowers?"

Rachel felt like she was giving ground when she turned to look at her. "They are lovely. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Not sure how I'm going to top them though. Teddy-bear maybe?"

Quinn was thinking about buying her a teddy-bear? Would she really? Oh, my . . . now she was light-headed as her thoughts rotated dizzily around the idea. Still she fought the giddy smile trying to overtake her face. She _wanted _that bear, but she was worth more than that and Quinn _knew_ it deep down or she wouldn't even be here. It was time for Quinn to recognize it now. She couldn't keep pushing this . . . this _thing _between them if she wasn't just as prepared to accept the consequences that came with it.

"Save your money. It won't make any difference. I cannot be bought with a stuffed animal."

Quinn smiled, "I think I'll buy you one anyway."

"Why?"

Quinn stood up again suddenly and came a step closer. "Did you sleep okay last night? You look a little tired."

"I slept fine," she lied.

"Really? Because we have ten more minutes. If you wanted a power-nap . . . I'll make sure you wake up on time for class."

"You look as tired as I do. You'll probably fall asleep too."

"I'll set the alarm on my phone."

She knew what was being suggested. Quinn's body language as she sidled closer was screaming what she was suggesting, and it was so tempting . . . but, no!

"Thank you, but I don't need a nap. In fact I'm so full of energy I'm going to run around the quad before class." She made it two steps towards the door before Quinn called out.

"Okay, but Rachel, wait."

She waited. She shouldn't have.

Quinn closed the distance between them and before Rachel knew what was happening, she was on the receiving end of a gentle kiss, and then Quinn was gone. She could have disappeared in a puff of smoke for all Rachel knew (her brain had stuck about the same time Quinn's lips had touched hers) with just the words "I'll see you in Gym!" hanging in the air as proof the encounter had ever even happened.

"Okay," she breathed to the empty room about a minute later.


End file.
